HOPE  HATHAWAY 


'CES  PARKB 


HOPE 
HATHAWAY 


HOPE   HATHAWAY 


HOPE 
HATHAfVAr 

a  J^torp  of 


BY 

FRANCES     PARKER 


BOSTON,    MASS. 

C.    M.    CLARK   PUBLISHING    CO.   (Inc.) 

1904 


fl^^T^A 


/^> 


P> 


COP  r RIGHT,  I  go  4 

by 

C.    M.    CLARK   PUBLISHING    CO.   (Inc.) 

BOSTON,  MASS.,   U.  S.  A. 


Entered  at  Stationers  Hall.  London 


Righti  of  Translation,   Public  Reading  and 
Dramatization  Reserved 


Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  .  .   .   As  quickly  the  horse  took  fright  "      .      .      23 

**  Harris  and  His  Friends  *' 25 

**  It  is  good,  just  as  I   thought,  and  as  cold  as 

ice,**  he  said 35 

*'  Nearly  unseating  the   old  cow-puncher  in  her 

demonstrations  of  welcome  **        .     .     .     .      55 

Old  Jim  McCullen 1 09 

'*  On  her  face  was  the  snarl  of  a  dog  "     .     .     .123 

**  Old    Peter  .   .   .  rolled    over   in  a  convulsed 

heap** 245 

'*  .    .   .   Brought  her  face  to  face  with  Long  Bill 

and  Shorty  Smith  '  * 266 

*'  Dragged  the  heavy  body  up  toward  the  shelter 

of  the  rocks 392 


lvi^'?2S9 


HOPE    HATHAWAY 


CHAPTER  I 

HATHAWAY'S  home-ranch  spread 
itself  miles  over  an  open  valley  on  the 
upper  Missouri.  As  far  as  the  eye 
reached  not  a  fence  could  be  seen,  yet  four 
barbed- wires,  stretched  upon  good  cotton-wood 
posts,  separated  the  ranch  from  the  open 
country  about. 

Jim  Hathaway  was  an  old-time  cattleman. 
He  still  continued  each  summer  to  turn  out 
upon  the  range  great  droves  of  Texas  steers 
driven  north  by  his  cowboys,  though  at  this 
time  it  was  more  profitable  to  ship  in  Western 
grown  stock.  He  must  have  known  that  this 
was  so,  for  every  year  his  profits  became  less, 
yet  it  was  the  nature  of  the  man  to  keep  in  the 
old  ruts,  to  cling  to  old  habits. 


2  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

The  old-time  cowboy  was  fast  disappearing, 
customs  of  the  once  wild  West  were  giving 
way  before  an  advancing  civilization.  He  had 
seen  its  slow,  steady  approach  year  after  year, 
dreading — abhorring  it.  Civilization  was  com- 
ing surely.  What  though  his  lands  extended 
beyond  his  good  eyesight,  were  not  these  inter- 
lopers squatting  on  every  mile  of  creek  in  the 
surrounding  country?  The  open  range  would 
some  time  be  a  thing  of  the  past.  That  green 
ridge  of  mountains  to  the  west, — his  moun- 
tains, his  and  the  Indians,  where  he  had  en- 
joyed unmolested  reign  for  many  years, — were 
they  not  filling  them  as  bees  fill  a  hive,  so  filling 
them  with  their  offensive  bands  of  sheep  and 
small  cow-ranches  that  his  cattle  had  all  they 
could  do  to  obtain  a  footing? 

On  one  of  his  daily  rides  he  had  come  home 
tired  and  out  of  humor.  The  discovery  of  a 
new  fence  near  his  boundary  line  had  opened 
up  an  unpleasant  train  of  thought,  and  not 
even  the  whisky,  placed  beside  him  by  a 
placid- faced  Chinese  servant,  could  bring  him 
into  his  usual  jovial  spirits.     After  glancing 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  3 

through  a  week-old  newspaper  and  finding  in 
it  no  solace  for  his  ugly  mood,  he  threw  himself 
down  upon  his  office  lounge,  spreading  the 
paper  carefully  over  him.  The  Chinaman,  by 
rare  intuition,  divined  his  state  of  mind  and 
stole  cautiously  into  the  room  to  remove  the 
empty  glasses,  at  the  same  time  keeping  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  large  man  under  the  news- 
paper. 

Hathaway  generally  took  a  nap  in  the  fore- 
noon after  returning  from  his  ride,  for  he  was 
an  early  riser,  and  late  hours  at  night  made  this 
habit  imperative.  This  day  his  mood  brought 
him  into  a  condition  where  he  felt  no  desire  to 
sleep,  so  he  concluded,  but  he  must  have  fallen 
into  a  doze,  for  the  sharp  tones  of  a  girl's  voice 
directly  outside  his  window  brought  him  to  his 
feet  with  a  start. 

"  If  that's  what  you're  driving  at  you  may  as 
well  roll  up  your  bedding  and  move  on!"  It 
was  spoken  vehemently,  with  all  the  distinct- 
ness of  a  clear-toned  voice.  A  man  replied, 
but  in  more  guarded  tone,  so  that  Hathaway 
went  to  the  window  to  catch  his  words. 


4  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  talking 
about,"  he  was  saying.  "  This  is  my  home  as 
well  as  yours,  and  I'd  have  small  chance  to 
carry  out  my  word  if  I  went  away,  so  I  in- 
tend to  stay  right  here.  Do  you  know,  Hope, 
when  you  get  mad  like  that  you're  so  devilish 
pretty  that  I  almost  hate  you !  Look  at  those 
eyes!  You'd  kill  me  if  you  could,  wouldn't 
you?  But  you'll  love  me  yet,  and  marry  me, 
too,  don't  forget  that!" 

"  How  can  you  talk  to  me  so,"  demanded  the 
girl,  stepping  back  from  him,  "after  all  my 
father  has  done, — made  you  his  son, — ^given 
you  everything  he  would  have  given  a  son? 
Oh ! "  she  cried  passionately,  "  I  can't  bear  you 
in  this  new  role!  It  is  terrible,  and  I've  looked 
upon  you  as  a  brother!  Now  what  are  you? 
You've  got  no  right  to  talk  to  me  so — to  in- 
sist!" 

"  But  your  mother "  he  interrupted. 

"  My  mother! ''  weariedly.  "  Yes,  of  course ! 
It  would  be  all  right  there.  You  have  money — 
enough.  A  good  enough  match,  no  doubt; 
and  she  would  be  freer  to  go, — would  feel  bet- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  5 

ter  to  know  that  she  had  no  more  responsibihty 
here.  You  know  your  ground  well  enough 
there."  Then  with  growing  anger:  "Don't 
you  ring  in  my  mother  on  me!  I  tell  you  I 
wouldn't  marry  you  if  I  never  got  married! 
I'm  strong  enough  to  fight  my  own  battles,  and 
I  will,  and  you'd  better  forget  what  you've 
said  to  me  and  change  the  subject  forever  1" 
She  walked  away,  her  strong,  lithe  body  erect. 
"But  you're  handsome,  you  brown  devil  I" 
he  cried,  taking  one  step  and  clasping  her 
roughly  to  him.  She  tore  herself  loose,  her 
eyes  blazing  with  sudden  fire,  as  Hathaway, 
white  with  anger,  came  suddenly  around  the 
corner  of  his  office  and  grasped  the  offender 
by  the  coat  collar.  Then  the  slim  young  man 
was  lifted,  kicked,  and  tossed  alternately  from 
oif  the  earth,  while  the  girl  stood  calmly  to  one 
side  and  watched  the  performance,  which  did 
not  cease  until  the  infuriated  man  became  ex- 
hausted. Then  the  boy  picked  himself  up  and 
walked  unsteadily  toward  the  building,  against 
which  he  leaned  to  regain  his  breath  while 
Hathaway  stood  panting 


6  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"  Here,  hold  on  a  minute,"  roared  the  angry 
father  as  the  young  man  moved  away.  "I 
ain't  done  with  you  yet!  Get  your  horse  and 
get  oif  this  ranch  or  I'll  break  every  bone  in 
your  damn  body !  You  will  treat  my  girl  like 
that,  will  you?  You  young  puppy!"  The 
young  fellow  was  whipped  undoubtedly,  but 
gracefully,  for  he  turned  toward  Hathaway 
and  said  between  swollen  lips : 

"You  don't  want  to  blame  me  too  much, 
Uncle  Jim.  Just  look  at  the  girl !  Any  man 
would  find  it  worth  risking  his  neck  for  her! " 
Then  he  moved  slowly  away,  while  the  girl's 
eyes  changed  from  stern  to  merry.  Her  father 
choked  with  rage. 

"You — ^you — you Get    away    from 

here,  and  don't  talk  back  to  me! "  he  roared  at 
the  retreating  figure. 

The  girl  moved  forward  a  few  steps,  calling : 
"That's  right,  Sydney,  keep  your  nerve! 
When  you're  ready  to  call  it  off  we'll  try  to  be 
friends  again."  Without  waiting  for  her 
cousin's  reply  she  ran  into  the  house,  while  he 
lost  no  time  in  leaving  the  ranch,  riding  at  a 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  7 

rapid  gait  toward  the  nearest  town.  Hath- 
away watched  him  out  of  sight,  then  with  a 
nervous,  bewildered  shake  of  the  head  joined 
his  wife  and  daughter  at  luncheon. 

"At  last  your  father  has  come,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Hathaway,  as  he  appeared.  "  Hope,  ring  for 
the  chocolate;  I'm  almost  famished.  It  seems 
to  me,  James,"  turning  to  her  husband  with 
some  impatience,  "  that  you  might  try  to  be  a 
little  more  prompt  in  getting  to  your  meals — 
here  we've  been  waiting  ages!  You  know  I 
can't  bear  to  wait  for  anyone!"  She  sighed 
properly  and  unfolded  her  napkin. 

"My  dear,"  said  Hathaway  blandly,  "I'm 
sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  but  I've  been 
somewhat  occupied — somewhat." 

"  But  you  should  always  consider  that  your 
meals  come  first,  even  if  your  wife  and  family 
do  not,"  continued  the  lady.  "  Where  is  Syd- 
ney? The  dear  boy  is  generally  so  very 
prompt." 

The  effect  of  her  words  was  not  apparent. 
Her  husband  appeared  absent-minded  and  the 
meal  began. 


8  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

The  daughter,  Hope,  with  quiet  dignity  be- 
fitting a  matron,  occupied  the  head  of  the  table, 
as  she  had  done  ever  since  her  mother  shifted 
the  responsibilities  of  the  household  to  her 
young  shoulders.  When  this  question  was 
asked  she  gave  her  father  a  quick  glance. 
Would  he  acknowledge  the  truth?  Evidently 
not,  for  he  began  immediately  to  talk  about  the 
new  fence  near  his  boundary  line.  It  was  a 
shame,  he  said,  that  these  people  were  settling 
in  around  him. 

"  The  land's  no  good,"  he  declared.  "  Nearly 
all  the  water  around  here  that's  any  account  is 
on  my  place.  All  on  earth  these  hobos  are  tak- 
ing it  up  for  is  in  expectation  that  I'll  buy 
them  out.  Well,  maybe  I  will,  and  again 
maybe  I  won't.  I'd  do  most  anything  to  get 
rid  of  them,  but  I  can't  buy  the  earth."  At 
this  Hope  smiled,  showing  a  flash  of  strong, 
white  teeth. 

"And  if  you  could  buy  the  earth,  what  would 
you  do  with  these  people? "  she  asked,  her  face 
settling  into  its  natural  quiet.  Her  mother 
gave  her  the  usual  look  of  amazement. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  9 

"  Hope,  I  must  ask  you  not  to  say  imperti- 
nent things  to  your  father.  You  no  doubt 
meant  to  be  witty,  but  you  were  none  the  less 
rude.  Why  do  you  allow  her  to  say  such 
things  to  you,  James?  You  have  succeeded  in 
spoiling  her  completely.  Now  if  I  had  been 
allowed  to  send  her  away  to  school  she  would 
have  grown  up  with  better  manners." 

Hathaway  passed  his  cup  to  be  refilled,  mak- 
ing no  answer  to  his  wife's  outburst.  Per- 
haps he  had  learned  in  his  years  of  experience 
that  the  less  said  the  better.  At  any  rate  he 
made  no  effort  to  defend  his  daughter — ^his 
only  child,  and  dear  to  him,  too.  If  she  had 
expected  that  he  would  defend  her  it  was  only 
for  a  passing  instant,  then  she  returned  to  her 
natural  gravity.  Her  face  had  few  expres- 
sions. Its  chief  charm  lay  in  its  unchanging 
immobility,  its  utter  quiet,  behind  which 
gleamed  something  of  the  girl's  soul.  When 
her  rare  smile  came,  lighting  it  up  wonder- 
fully, she  was  irresistible — in  her  anger,  mag- 
nificent. 

Ordinarily  she  would  not  have  been  noticed  at 


10  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

first  glance,  except,  perhaps,  for  the  exception- 
ally fine  poise  of  her  strong,  slim  body.  She 
was  a  true  daughter  of  the  West,  tanned 
almost  as  brown  as  an  Indian  maid,  and  easily 
might  have  passed  for  a  half-breed,  with  her 
blue-black  eyes  and  hair  of  the  darkest  brown. 
But  if  she  had  Indian  blood  she  did  not  know 
it.  Her  mother,  during  the  season,  a  flitting 
butterfly  of  New  York  society,  a  Daughter 
of  the  Revolution  by  half  a  dozen  lines  of 
descent,  would  have  been  horrified  at  the  mere 
thought. 

The  girl  herself  would  not  have  cared  had 
she  been  born  and  raised  in  an  Indian  camp. 
She  had  what  Mrs.  Hathaway  termed  queer 
ideas,  due,  as  she  always  took  occasion  to  ex- 
plain to  her  friends  who  visited  the  ranch,  to 
the  uncivilized  life  that  she  had  insisted  upon 
living. 

Hope  had  been  obstinate  in  refusing  to  leave 
the  ranch.  Threats  and  punishments  were  un- 
availing. When  a  young  child  she  had  re- 
solved never  to  go  away  to  school,  and  had  set 
her  small  foot  down  so  firmly  that  her  mother 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  11 

was  obliged  to  yield.  Hathaway  was  secretly 
glad  of  this,  for  the  ranch  was  home  to  him, 
and  he  would  not  leave  it  for  any  length  of 
time. 

The  little  girl  was  great  company  to  him, 
for  his  wife  was  away  months  at  a  time, 
preferring  the  gayety  of  her  New  York  home 
to  the  quiet,  isolated  ranch  on  the  prairie. 
Some  people  were  unkind  enough  to  say  that  it 
was  a  relief  to  Hathaway  to  have  the  place  to 
himself,  and  certain  it  is  that  he  never  made 
any  objections  to  the  arrangement.  Their 
only  child,  Hope,  was  educated  on  the  ranch 
by  the  best  instructors  procurable,  and  readily 
acquired  all  the  education  that  was  necessary 
to  her  happmess. 

At  Mrs.  Hathaway's  outburst  the  girl  made 
no  effort  to  defend  herself,  and  was  well  aware 
from  former  experiences  that  hei*  father  would 
not  come  to  her  aid.  That  he  was  afraid  of 
her  mother  she  would  not  admit.  It  seemed  so 
weak  and  foolish.  She  had  exalted  ideas  of 
what  a  man  should  be.  That  her  father  fell 
below  her  standard  she  would  not  acknowledge. 


12  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

She  loved  him  so,  was  proud  of  his  good  points, 
and  in  many  ways  he  was  a  remarkable  man, 
his  greatest  weakness,  if  it  could  be  called  that, 
being  his  apparent  fear  of  his  wife.  Her  do- 
minion over  him,  during  her  occasional  visits 
at  the  ranch,  was  absolute.  Hope  shut  her 
eyes  to  this,  telling  herself  that  it  was  caused 
by  his  desire  to  make  her  happy  during  these 
rare  opportunities. 

Hathaway  did  not  respond  to  his  wife's 
somewhat  uncalled-for  remarks,  but  after  a 
moment  of  silence  adroitly  changed  the  sub- 
ject by  inquiring  of  Hope  who  it  was  that  had 
ridden  up  to  the  ranch  just  as  he  left  that 
morning. 

"It  must  have  been  Joe  Harris,  from  the 
mountains,"  she  replied,  "for  he  was  here 
shortly  after  you  rode  away.  I  thought  he 
was  out  hunting  those  cattle  of  his  that  I  saw 
over  on  Ten  Mile  the  other  day,  but  he  in- 
formed me  that  it  was  not  cattle  he  was  hunt- 
ing this  time,  but  a  school-teacher.  They  have 
some  sort  of  a  country  school  up  there  in  his 
neighborhood,  and  I  think,  from  what  he  said, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  13 

and  what  some  of  the  boys  told  me,  that  he 
must  be  the  whole  school  board — clerk,  trus- 
tees, and  everything.  He  was  on  his  way  over 
to  the  Cross  Bar  ranch  to  see  if  he  could  secure 
that  young  fellow  who  came  out  from  the  East 
last  fall.  One  of  the  boys  told  him  that  this 
young  man  had  given  up  his  calling  indefi- 
nitely and  was  going  on  the  round-up  instead, 
but  Harris  rode  on  to  try  what  persuasion 
would  do." 

"That  dreadful  man,"  sighed  Mrs.  Hath- 
away. "He  is  that  squaw-man  with  those 
terrible  children!  Hope,  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
talk  so  intimately  with  such  people;  it's  below 
your  dignity.  If  Sydney  were  here  he  would 
agree  with  me.  Where  is  Sydney?  Do  you 
know  where  he  went?  He  will  miss  his  lunch- 
eon entirely,  the  poor  boy  I " 

Hope  looked  searchingly  at  her  father,  but 
he  ignored  her  glance.  Surely  he  would  say 
something  now!  The  question  trembled  upon 
the  air,  but  she  waited  involuntarily  for  him  to 
speak. 

"I've  asked  you  a  question,  Hope.     Why 


14  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

don't  you  answer;  are  you  dumb?"  said  her 
mother,  with  a  show  of  impatience.  "Where 
is  Sydney?" 

"  I  don't  know  just  where  he  is,"  rephed  the 
girl  at  length,  "  but  I  think  it  would  be  safe  to 
say  that  he  is  riding  toward  town;  at  least 
he  was  heading  that  way  the  lagt  I  saw  of 
him." 

"Toward  town!"  gasped  her  mother. 
"  Why,  he  was  going  to  drive  in  for  the  Cres- 
monds  to-morrow!  You  must  be  mistaken. 
Please  do  not  include  me  in  your  jokes!" 
Then,  turning  to  Hathaway,  continued: 
"James,  where  did  he  go?" 

Hathaway  moved  uneasily  under  the  direct 
gaze  of  his  daughter.  "I  haven't  the  least 
idea,"  he  finally  answered.  "I  can't  keep 
track  of  everyone  on  the  ranch."  The  girl's 
face  turned  pale  under  her  tan.  She  rose 
from  the  table  and  stood  tall  and  straight  be- 
hind her  chair,  her  clear  eyes  direct  upon  her 
father. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  her,"  she  cried  with  pas- 
sion.   Then  th^  usual  calm  settled  over  her  face. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  15 

She  turned  to  her  mother.  "  I  may  as  well  tell 
you  that  we  had  a  little  scene  this  morning, 
Sydney  and  I.  He  proposed  to  me."  She 
hesitated  an  instant,  turned  and  caught  her 
father's  nervous,  anxious  look  direct.  He 
was  watching  her  uneasily.  She  continued 
deliberately:  "I  refused  him — and  sent  him 
away  from  the  ranch.  You  may  as  well  know 
all  about  it." 

^'You  sent  him  away  from  the  rancH," 
gasped  Mrs.  Hathaway. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  girl  quietly.  It  was 
her  first  lie. 

"  You  dared  send  him  away — away  from  his 
own  home! "  almost  screamed  Mrs.  Hathaway, 
her  rage  increasing  with  every  word.  "  You 
dared!     You,  my  own  daughter — ^ungrateful, 

inconsiderate You    know    how    I    love 

that  boy,  my  poor  Jennie's  son!  What  busi- 
ness had  you  sending  him  away,  or  even  refus- 
ing him,  I'd  like  to  know !  What  if  he  is  your 
cousin — ^your  second  cousin?  Oh,  you  have  no 
consideration  for  me,  none — ^you  never  had! 
How  can  I  ever  endure  it  here  on  this  ranch 


16  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

three  whole  months  without  Sydney!  It  was 
bad  enough  before!"  She  wrung  her  hands 
and  rose  sobbing  from  the  table.  "  James,  do 
go  after  that  poor  boy.  Say  that  I  am  willing 
he  should  marry  Hope  if  he  is  so  foolish 
as  to  want  her.  Tell  him  not  to  mind  any- 
thing she  says,  but  that  he  must  come  home. 
You  will  go  at  once,  won't  you?" 

She  placed  both  hands  imploringly  on  his 
arm. 

"Yes,  I'll  go  after  him  to-morrow,  so  stop 
your  worrying,"  he  answered  soothingly. 
"Hope,  fetch  your  mother  a  glass  of  wine, 
don't  you  see  she's  all  upset? " 

The  girl  brought  the  wine  and  handed  it  to 
her  father,  but  his  eyes  shifted  uneasily  from 
her  clear,  steady  ones.  He  led  his  unhappy 
wife  from  the  room,  leaving  Hope  alone  with 
the  empty  wine  glass  in  her  hand.  She  stood 
so  for  a  moment,  then  walked  to  the  table  and 
set  the  tiny  glass  down,  but,  oddly,  raised  it  up 
again  and  looked  at  it  closely. 

"  As  empty  as  my  life  is  now,"  she  thought. 
"  As  empty  as  this  home  is  for  me.     I  have  no 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  17 

one — father,  mother— no  one."  A  queer  look 
crossed  her  face;  determination  settled  over 
her,  as  with  a  sudden,  vehement  motion  she 
shattered  the  frail  glass  upon  the  floor.  A 
single  thought,  and  a  new  life  had  opened  be- 
fore her. 


CHAPTER  II 

UPON  the  slope  of  a  great  grass- 
covered  hill,  among  other  hills,  larger 
and  grass-covered  also,  stood  a  small 
log  school-house.  A  hundred  yards  away,  be- 
tween this  isolated  building  and  the  dingy  road 
stretched  through  the  mountain  valley,  grew  a 
scrubby  clump  of  choke-cherry  brush.  Some 
boys  crouched  low  upon  the  ground  behind 
these  bushes,  screened  from  sight  of  possible 
passers-by,  and  three  pairs  of  eyes  looked 
through  the  budding  branches,  intently  scan- 
ning the  road  at  the  crest  of  hill  to  the  left. 
Finally  a  dark  speck  appeared  upon  its  gray 
surface.  The  youngest  boy  shivered,  a  tighten- 
ing of  expression  came  over  the  leader's  face. 
He  drew  his  shotgun  closer  to  him,  resting  it 
upon  his  knees.  Suddenly  he  laughed  un- 
unpleasantly  and  kicked  the  child  who  had 
shivered. 

18 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  Id 

"  You  ninny,  quit  your  shakin' !  Can't  you 
tell  a  steer  from  a  man?  You'll  make  a  nice 
feller  when  you  grow  up,  'fraid  of  your  own 
shadow!  You'd  better  git  into  the  school- 
house  an'  hide  under  a  bench,  if  you're  goin'  to 
be  scared  out  of  your  skin.  Baby!  Umph,  a 
steer,  too!  That  blame  black  one  that  won't 
stay  with  the  bunch!"  The  big  boy  brought 
his  awkward  length  down  upon  the  ground, 
continuing  in  a  lower  tone :  "  I'd  a  darn  sight 
ruther  be  on  my  horse  drivin'  him  back  on  the 
range  than  waitin'  here  for  any  fool  school- 
teacher! But  we've  got  this  job  on  hand.  No 
schoolin'  for  me — I'm  too  old.  It'll  do  for 
babies  that  shiver  at  a  steer,  but  I've  got  other 
business,  an'  so's  Dan.  I'm  thinkin'  if  the  old 
man  wants  school  up  here  he'll  have  to  teach  it 
himself!  What  does  he  think  we'd  go  to  the 
trouble  of  running  away  from  the  Mission  for 
if  we  wanted  to  go  to  school?  Umph,  he  must 
think  we're  plumb  locoed! " 

"If  father  catches  us  in  this  he'll  lick  us  to 
death,"  interposed  the  youngest  boy. 

"  Not  much,  he  won't.     He'll  have  to  ride  a 


20  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

faster  horse  than  mine  or  Dan's  if  he  catches 
us!  We'll  ride  over  to  the  Indian  camp,  an' 
you  can  stay  here  an'  take  the  lickin'I  He'll 
be  glad  enough  to  see  us  come  back  in  a  month 
or  two,  I'll  bet!  And  he's  goin'  to  find  out 
right  now  that  it  ain't  no  use  to  bring  any  dog- 
goned  teacher  up  here  to  teach  this  outfit. 
Ain't  that  so,  Dan?  We  know  enough  of 
learnin'.  I  bet  this  new  fellow  won't  stay 
long  enough  to  catch  his  breath ! " 

A  boy,  who  in  looks  and  size  was  the  exact 
counterpart  of  the  speaker,  asked  in  a  sweet, 
soft-toned  voice :  "  What  if  the  old  man  takes 
a  notion  to  come  along  to  the  school-house  with 
him — what'U  we  do  then,  Dave? " 

"Do!  why,  what  do  you  suppose  we'll  do?" 
answered  his  twin,  settling  down  closer  to  the 
ground.  "Why,  we'll  hide  these  here  guns 
an'  walk  up  to  the  school-house  like  little  sheep, 
and  then  lay  low  and  watch  our  chance  when 
the  old  man  aint  around.  I  ain't  figurin'  on 
any  lickin'  to-day,  you  can  bet  your  boots  on 
that,  but  I'll  take  a  darn  good  one  before  any 
more  schoolin'  I    We've  got  the  medicine  to  fix 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  21 

school-teachers  for  him  this  year,  I  reckon  I" 
And  patting  his  gun,  the  breed  boy  gave  a 
satisfied  grunt  and  settled  down  nearer  to  the 
ground. 

"  You  bet  we  have,"  softly  assented  his  twin. 
"But  what  if  the  fellow  don't  scare  at  them 
blank  cartridges? " 

"Then  we'll  try  duck-shot  on  him,"  an- 
swered the  first  readily.  "What'd  you  think 
— we're  a  lot  of  babies?  I  reckon  we've  got 
fight  in  us  I  YouVe  got  to  stick  to  us,  Ned, 
even  if  you  ain't  as  old  as  Dan  and  me.  Ain't 
that  so,  Dan?" 

"Yes,  unless  he  wants  to  get  whaled  half 
to  death,"  sweetly  answered  the  so  ft- voiced 
twin. 

"  I'm  no  coward,"  exclaimed  the  sturdy  little 
fellow.  "  If  you  boys  dare  lick  me  I'll  shoot 
the  two  of  you ! "  His  small  black  eyes  flashed 
ominously.  For  an  instant  he  glared  at  the 
older  boys,  all  the  savagery  in  his  young  soul 
expressed  in  his  countenance.  The  soft- 
voiced  twin  gave  a  short  laugh.  Something 
like  admiration  shone  in  his  eyes  for  the  young 


22  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

lad,  but  he  retorted  sweetly:  "You  shivered! 
Don't  you  go  an'  do  it  again!"  At  that  in- 
stant his  sharp  eyes  sighted  an  object  just  ap- 
pearing at  the  top  of  the  hill.  He  punched  the 
leader  vigorously:  "Now  down  on  your 
knees,  he's  comin'  sure  this  time!" 

"And  he's  alone,"  said  the  bold  leader  joy- 
fully. "  We  won't  have  no  trouble  with  him. 
He  rides  like  a  tenderfoot,  all  right.  Wait  till 
he  gets  down  by  that  rock  there,  then  let  him 
have  it,  one  after  the  other — first  me,  then 
Dan,  then  you,  Ned.  I'll  bet  my  horse  an' 
saddle  that  he'll  go  back  quicker'n  he's 
comin'!" 

"What  if  that  ain't  the  feller  we  want?" 
gently  asked  Dan. 

"We'll  wait  till  he  turns  in  here,  an'  then 
we'll  know.  They  ain't  nobody  else  goin'  to 
come  along  this  way  just  now.  Lord,  don't  he 
ride  slow,  though!  Now  I'll  shoot  first,  don't 
forget." 

"  His  saddle  blanket's  flying  on  this  side,  and 
he's  got  a  red  shirt  on,"  said  the  other  twin. 
"  He's  lookin'  over  this  way.     Yes,  he's  comin' 


As  quickly  the  horse  took  fright." 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  23 

here  all  right.  Let  him  have  it,  Dave,  before 
he  gits  any  closer ! " 

As  he  spoke,  the  approaching  rider  left  the 
main  road  and  turned  up  the  dimly  marked 
trail  toward  the  school-house.  The  forward 
twin  waited  an  instant,  then,  aiming  his  shot- 
gun carelessly  toward  the  stranger,  fired.  At 
the  signal  a  volley  rang  out  from  behind  the 
bushes.  As  quickly  the  horse  took  fright, 
stopped  stock  still,  then  wheeled,  and  bolted 
with  utmost  speed  directly  toward  the  patch  of 
brush,  passing  so  near  that  the  boys  drew  in 
their  legs  and  crawled  snake-like  under  the 
protection  of  the  branches. 

"Good  Lord,"  gasped  the  leader,  as  the 
horse  raced  past,  on  up  the  grassy  slope  of  a 
hill,  "it's  a  girl!" 

Two  minutes  later  the  bushes  were  quickly 
parted  over  three  very  uncomfortable  boys, 
and  a  red  shirt- waisted  girl  looked  sternly  in  at 
them. 

"You  boys  come  out  of  there  this  minute! 
Who  did  you  take  me  for  that  you  were  trying 
to  frighten  me  to  death?     Or  is  that  the  way 


24  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

you  treat  ladies  up  here  in  the  mountains? 
Come  out  immediately  and  explain  your- 
selves!" 

The  soft-voiced  twin  crept  out  first,  and  be- 
fore scrambling  to  his  feet  began  apologizing: 
"  We  didn't  know  it  was  you.  We  thought  it 
was  a  man.  Don't  hurt  us!  We  wouldn't  a 
done  it  for  nothin'  if  we'd  thought  it  was  you. 
We  were  layin'  for  a  school-teacher  that  father 
got  to  teach  this  school,  an'  we  took  you  for 
him."  Then  more  hopefully  as  he  regained  his 
feet:  **But  our  guns  wasn't  loaded  with 
nothing  but  blank  cartridges.  We  was  just 
goin'  to  frighten  him  away  so  that  we  wouldn't 
have  no  school  this  summer.  It's  too  fine 
weather  to  be  in  school,  anyway."  He  looked 
up  into  the  girl's  uncompromising  face.  "  But 
now  I  reckon  our  hides  are  cooked,  for  you'll 
tell  your  father."     This  last  questioningly. 

"And  you  wouldn't  like  my  father  to  know 
about  this — or  your  father  either,  I  suppose?" 

"We'd  do  most  anything  if  you  wouldn't 
tell  on  us,  Miss  Hathaway! " 

"Do   I  look  like  a  girl  that  would  tell 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  25 

things?"  she  flashed  back.  "I  usually  fight 
my  own  battles;  if  necessary,  I  can  use  this/^ 
A  quick  movement  and  she  placed  before  their 
faces  a  reliable  looking  six-shooter. 

"  We  know  all  about  that !  You  ain't  a-goin* 
to  hurt  us,  are  you? "  exclaimed  Dave. 

"You  know  all  about  that,  do  you?  Well, 
that's  good.     Now  tell  me  your  names." 

"We're  the  Harris  kids,"  answered  Dave 
quickly. 

"  I  know  you're  the  Harris  kids,  but  I  want 
your  first  names.  Yours''  she  commanded, 
looking  at  the  soft-voiced  twin  and  absently 
fingering  the  weapon. 

"Mine's  Dan.  He's  Dave,  an'  that  one's 
Ned,"  answered  the  boy  in  one  soft,  quick 
breath;  then  added:  "We  know  all  about  how 
you  can  shoot.  You're  a  dead  one!"  His 
face  took  on  a  certain  shrewd  look  and  he  con- 
tinued divertingly:  '  "I'll  throw  up  my  cap 
an'  you  shoot  at  it.  I'd  like  to  have  the  hole 
in  it." 

Miss  Hathaway  seemed  suddenly  amused. 

"You  are  a  very  bright  boyl    And  your 


26  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

name  is  Dan — ^Daniel.  You  want  a  souvenir? 
Well,  all  right,  but  not  just  now.  I've  got 
other  business.  I  came  to  teach  your  school." 
She  hesitated,  looking  keenly  at  their  as- 
tonished faces.  "Yes,  your  father  has  en- 
gaged me — ^hired  me,  so  I  think  we'd  better  go 
inside  and  begin  work,  don't  you?  We'll 
overlook  this  shooting  affair.  I  don't  know  as 
I  blame  you  very  much  for  not  wanting  a  man 
teacher,  but  of  course  the  shooting  was  very 
wrong,  and  you  shouldn't  have  tried  to  frighten 
anyone ;  but  we'll  forget  all  about  it.  But  you 
are  not  going  to  have  a  man  teacher,  and  /  am 
different.  I  am  going  to  live  at  your  house, 
too,  so  of  course  we'll  be  good  friends — ^ride 
together,  hunt,  and  have  great  times,  after 
school.  During  school  we  work,  remember 
that!  Now  one  of  you  boys  please  stake  out 
my  horse  for  me  and  then  we  will  go  inside  and 
start  school.  You  boys  must  help  me  get 
things  to  working." 

Before  she  had  finished  speaking  the  soft- 
voiced  twin  caught  her  horse,  which  was  graz- 
ing near.     Dave,   more  clumsily  built,   fol- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  27 

lowed  him,  while  the  girl  took  the  small  boy  by 
the  hand  and  started  toward  the  school-house. 
At  the  door  she  turned  in  time  to  see  the  twins 
struggling  at  her  horse's  head.  They  were 
about  ready  to  come  to  blows. 

"I'll  take  care  of  that  horse  myself,"  said 
Dave  gruffly,  attempting  to  force  the  other 
boy's  hand  from  the  bridle. 

"  Don't  fight,  boys,  or  I  will  take  care  of  the 
horse,"  called  the  new  school-teacher  severely; 
thereupon  the  so  ft- voiced  twin  released  his  hold 
and  walked  demurely  up  to  the  school-house. 

"Anyway,"  he  explained  as  he  went  inside, 
"Dave's  the  youngest,  and  so  I  let  him  have 
the  horse." 

"I  never  was  so  frightened  in  my  life," 
thought  the  girl,  as  she  arranged  the  small 
school  for  the  day.  "But  the  only  way  to 
manage  these  little  devils  is  to  bluff  them." 


CHAPTER  III 

A  GROUP  composed  principally  of 
cowboys,  squaw-men,  and  breeds 
squatted  and  lounged  outside  of  Joe 
Harris'  house.  Numerous  tousley-headed 
boys,  with  worn  overalls  and  bare  feet,  played 
noisily  on  the  outskirts,  dogs  and  pigs  scurried 
about  everywhere,  while  in  the  doorway  of  the 
dingy,  dirt-covered  kitchen  in  the  rear  hov- 
ered a  couple  of  Indian  women  and  several 
small  dark-skinned  children.  Somewhere  out 
of  sight,  probably  over  the  cook-stove,  were 
two  or  three  nearly  grown  girls.  Such,  at 
supper  time,  was  the  usual  aspect  of  Joe 
Harris'  cabins,  varied  occasionally  by  more  or 
less  Indians,  whose  tepees  stood  at  one  side,  or 
more  or  less  dogs,  but  always  the  same  extraor- 
dinary amount  of  squealing  pigs  and  chil- 
dren. 

The  huge  figure  of  Joe  Harris,  squaw-man, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  29 

cattle-man,  and  general  progressive-man,  was 
prominent  in  the  center  of  the  group.  He  was 
by  all  odds  the  greatest  and  most  feared  man 
in  that  portion  of  the  country.  His  judgment 
as  well  as  his  friendship  was  sought  after  by 
all  the  small  ranchers  about,  and  also,  it  was 
rumored,  by  a  certain  class  of  cattle  owners 
commonly  called  rustlers.  To  be  Joe  Harris' 
friend  meant  safety,  if  nothing  more ;  to  be  his 
enemy  meant,  sooner  or  later,  a  search  for  a  new 
country,  or  utter  ruination.  He  brought  with 
him,  years  before  from  the  north,  a  weird  rec- 
ord, no  tangible  tale  of  which  got  about,  but 
the  mysterious  rumor,  combined  with  the  man's 
striking  personality,  his  huge  form,  bearded 
face,  piercing  blue  eyes,  and  great  voice,  all 
combined  to  make  people  afraid  of  him.  He 
was  considered  a  dangerous  man.  At  this 
date  he  possessed  one  thousand  head  of  good 
cattle,  a  squaw,  and  fifteen  strong,  husky  chil- 
dren, and,  being  a  drinking  man,  possessed  also 
an  erratic  disposition.  He  was  very  defer- 
ential to  his  Indian  wife,  a  good  woman,  but  he 
ruled  his  offspring  with  a  rod  of  iron.     His 


80  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

children  feared  him.  Some  of  them  possessed 
his  nature  to  such  a  marked  degree  that  they 
hated  him  more  than  they  feared  him,  which  is 
saying  considerable.  Even  as  they  played 
about  the  group  of  men  they  watched  him 
closely,  as  they  had  learned  by  instinct  at  their 
mother's  breast. 

In  the  midst  of  loud  talk  from  the  assorted 
group,  a  tiny  girl,  the  great  man's  favorite 
child,  was  sent  out  from  the  kitchen  to  tell  them 
that  supper  was  ready.  The  little  thing  pulled 
timidly  at  the  large  man's  coat.  He  stooped 
and  picked  her  up  in  his  arms,  leading  the 
hungry  throng  into  the  house,  where  a  rude 
supper  was  eaten  in  almost  absolute  silence. 
Occasionally  a  pig  would  venture  into  the 
room,  to  be  immediately  kicked  out  by  the 
man  who  sat  nearest  the  door.  Then  the 
children  that  played  about  the  house  would 
chase  the  offending  animal  with  sticks  and 
shrill  cries. 

In  a  room  adjoining  this  one  a  girl  sat  alone 
in  dejected  attitude,  her  face  buried  between 
two  very  brown  hands.     As  the  men  tramped 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  31 

into  the  house  she  rose  from  the  trunk  upon 
which  she  had  been  sitting  and  crossed  to  the 
farther  side  of  the  room.  There,  with  diffi- 
culty, she  forced  up  a  small  dingy  window 
looking  out  upon  the  mountains  at  the  back  of 
the  ranch — a  clear  view,  unobstructed  by 
scurrying  dogs,  pigs,  or  children.  She  leaned 
far  out,  drawing  in  deep,  sweet  breaths,  and 
wondering  if  she  would  follow  the  impulse  to 
climb  out  and  run  to  the  top  of  the  nearest  hill. 
She  thought  not,  then  fell  again  to  wondering 
how  she  should  ever  accustom  herself  to  this 
place,  these  new  surroundings.  She  heard  the 
men  tramp  out  of  the  house,  followed  soon  by 
a  timid  rap  upon  her  door,  then  moved  quickly 
across  the  room,  an  odd  contrast  to  her  rude 
surroundings. 

"  You  can  have  supper  now,"  said  a  tall  girl 
in  a  timid  voice.  "  The  men  are  through.  We 
ain't  got  much.  Miss  Hathaway." 

"A  little  is  enough  for  me,"  said  the  girl, 
smiling.  "Don't  call  me  Miss^  please.  It 
doesn't  seem  just  right-  -here.  Call  me  Hope. 
It  will  make  me  feel  more  at  home,  you  know. 


32  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

You're  Mary,  aren't  you?  You  haven't  been 
to  supper,  have  you? " 

"Mother  said  you  were  to  eat  alone,"  an- 
swered the  breed  girl. 

"Oh,  no,  surely  I  may  eat  with  you  girls! 
I'd  much  prefer  it.  You  know  it  would  be 
lonely  all  by  myself,  don't  you  think  so?" 

"We  ain't  going  to  eat  just  yet,  not  till 
after  the  boys  get  theirs,"  said  the  Harris  girl 
a  trifle  less  timidly. 

"Then  I  will  wait,  too,"  Hope  decided. 
"  Come  in,  Mary,  and  stay  till  I  unpack  some 
of  these  things.  Just  a  few  waists  and  extra 
riding  skirts.  I  suppose  I  am  to  hang  them 
up  here  on  these  nails,  am  I  not? "  When  she 
had  finished  unpacking  she  turned  to  the  breed 
girl,  who  had  become  quite  friendly  and  was 
watching  her  interestedly,  and  explained: 
"Just  a  few  things  that  I  thought  would  be 
suitable  to  wear  up  here,  for  teaching;  but, 
do  you  know,  I'd  feel  lots  better  if  I  had  a 
dress  hke  yours — a  calico  one.  But  I  have  this 
— this  old  buck-skin  one.  See,  it  has  bead- 
work  on  it.    Isn't  it  pretty? " 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  33 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  as  Hope  held  it 
up  for  inspection.     '' Isnt  it  lovely!" 

"Very  old  and  dingy-looking,  but  I'll  put 
it  on  and  wear  it,"  she  decided. 

A  few  minutes  later,  when  they  had  ar- 
ranged the  small,  barren  room  somewhat  more 
comfortably,  Hope  Hathaway,  attired  in  her 
dress  of  Indian  make,  joined  the  Harris  girls 
at  their  frugal  meal.  Her  dark  hair  was  parted 
in  the  center  and  hung  in  two  long  braids  down 
her  back.  That,  combined  with  the  beaded 
dress,  fringed  properly,  her  black  eyes,  and 
quiet  expressionless  face,  made  a  very  pictur- 
esque representation  of  an  Indian  girl.  Truly 
she  was  one  of  them.  The  breed  girls  must 
have  thought  something  of  the  same,  for  they 
became  at  their  ease,  talking  very  much  as 
girls  talk  the  world  over.  There  were  three  of 
them  between  the  ages  of  fourteen  and  eight- 
een, and  Hope  soon  found  herself  well  enter- 
tained and  almost  contented.  The  loneliness 
soon  wore  away,  and  before  realizing  it  she 
began  to  feel  at  home — almost  one  of  them, 
true  to  her  spirit  of  adaptability.     But  yet 


34  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

for  her  supper  she  ate  only  two  hard  boiled 
eggs. 

After  the  meal  the  breed  girls  walked  with 
her  down  to  the  spring-house  where  the  milk 
and  butter  was  kept.  From  underneath  the 
small  log  building  a  large  spring  crept  lazily 
out,  spreading  itself  as  it  went  into  a  miniature 
lake  which  lay  between  the  house  buildings  and 
the  stables.  It  was  the  only  thing  on  the  ranch 
worthy  of  notice,  and,  in  a  country  barren  of 
water  excepting  in  the  form  of  narrow  wind- 
ing creeks,  it  was  pleasing  to  the  eye. 
I  The  men  and  boys  had  disappeared,  the 
younger  children  were  with  their  mother,  and 
even  the  pigs  had  drowsily  gone  to  their  sleep- 
ing quarters.  The  place  seemed  strangely 
quiet  after  its  recent  noise  and  commotion. 

Finally  the  girls  returned  to  the  house  to 
help  with  the  small  children,  while  in  the  deep- 
ening twilight  Hope  remained  alone  beside  the 
lake.  The  water  into  which  she  looked  and 
dreamed  was  shallow,  but  the  deepening 
shadows  concealed  that  fact.  To  her  fancy  it 
might  have  been  bottomless.    Someone  rode 


It  is  good,  just  as  I  thought,  and  as  cold  as  ice,"  he  said. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  35 

up  on  horseback,  but  she  paid  no  attention 
until  a  pleasant  voice  close  beside  her  startled 
her  from  her  reverie. 

"Can  I  trouble  you  for  a  drink  of  that 
water,  please?  I  have  often  wished  for  one 
as  I  rode  past ;  it  looks  so  clear  and  cold."  She 
bowed  her  head  in  assent,  and,  bringing  a  cup 
from  the  spring-house,  stooped  and  filled  it  for 
him.  He  thanked  her  and  drank  the  water 
eagerly. 

"It  is  good,  just  as  I  thought,  and  cold  as 
ice,"  he  said;  then,  noticing  the  girl  more 
closely,  continued:  "  I  have  been  talking  with 
your  father  over  there  at  the  corral,  and  am  re- 
turning home." 

"With  my  father f'  emphasized  the  girl. 
The  young  man  noted  with  wonderment  the 
richness  of  her  voice,  the  soft,  alluring  grace 
of  every  movement.  Someone  had  jokingly 
told  him  before  he  left  his  old-country  home 
that  he  would  bring  back  an  Indian  wife,  as 
one  of  historical  fame  had  done  centuries  be- 
fore. He  laughed  heartily  at  the  time — he 
smiled  now,  but  thought  of  it.     He  thought 


36  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

of  it  again  many  times  that  evening  and 
cursed  himself  for  such  folly.  Perhaps  there 
was  Indian  medicine  in  the  cup  she  gave  him, 
or  perhaps  he  looked  an  instant  too  long  into 
those  dark,  unfathomable  eyes.  He  found 
himself  explaining: 

"  Yes ;  your  father  has  agreed  to  sell  me  that 
team  I  have  been  wanting.  I  am  coming  back 
for  the  horses  to-morrow." 

"  My  father f  she  began  again.     "  Oh,  yes, 

of  course.     I  thought Would  you  like 

another  drink  of  the  water?" 

"Yes,  if  you  please."  It  seemed  good  to 
stand  there  in  the  growing  darkness,  and  an- 
other drink  would  give  him  fully  a  minute.  He 
watched  her  supple  figure  as  she  stooped  to  re- 
fill the  tin  cup.  What  perfect  physiques  some 
of  these  Indian  girls  possessed!  He  did  not 
wonder  so  much  now  that  some  men  forgot 
their  families  and  names  for  these  dark- 
skinned  women. 

"I  am  coming  to-morrow  for  the  horses — 
in  the  morning,"  he  repeated  foolishly,  return- 
ing the  cup.     She  did  not  speak  again,  so  bid- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  37 

ding  her  a  courteous  good-night  he  mounted 
his  horse  and  rode  slowly  into  the  gathering 
dusk. 

Hope  stood  there  for  a  moment,  returning 
to  her  study  of  the  water ;  then  two  of  the  breed 
girls  came  toward  her.  One  of  them  was  gig- 
gling audibly. 

"  We  heard  him,"  said  Mary.  "  He  thought 
you  was  one  of  us.  It'll  be  fun  to  fool  him. 
He's  new  out  here,  and  don't  know  much,  any- 
how. He's  Edward  Livingston,  an  English- 
man, an'  has  got  a  sheep  ranch  about  three 
miles  over  there." 

"A  sheep-man!''  exclaimed  Hope,  "Isn't 
that  too  bad!" 

"  You  hate  sheep-men,  too? "  asked  the  older 
girl. 

"No,  I  don't  know  that  I  hate  them,  but 
there's  a  feeling — a  sort  of  something  one  can't 
get  over,  something  that  grows  in  the  air  if 
you're  raised  among  cattle.  I  despise  sheep, 
detest  them.  They  spoil  our  cattle  range." 
Then  after  a  short  pause:  "It's  too  bad  hef 
isn't  a  cattle-man! "  ( 


38  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  That's  M^hat  I  think/'  said  Mary,  "  because 
the  men  are  all  gettin'  down  on  him.  He  rmis 
his  sheep  all  over  their  range,  an'  they're 
makin'  a  big  talk." 

"You  shouldn't  tell  things,  Mary,  they're 
only  talkin',  anyway,"  reproved  the  older  girl. 

"  Talkin  !  Well,  I  should  say  so,  an'  you  bet 
they  mean  business!  But  Miss  Hathaway — 
Hope — don't  care,  an'  I  don't  care  neither,  if 
he  gets  into  a  scrape ;  only  he's  got  such  a  nice, 
pleasant  face,  an'  he  ain't  on  to  the  ways  out 
here  yet,  neither — an'  I  don't  care  what  the 
men  say!  Tain't  as  if  he  meant  anything 
through  real  meanness." 

"That's  so,"  replied  the  older  girl,  "but 
maybe  she  don't  want  to  hear  such  talk.  It's 
bedtime,  anyway;  let's  go  in." 

"Yes,  I'm  tired,"  said  Hope  wearily,  add- 
ing as  she  bade  Mary  good-night  at  her  door: 
"  I  do  hope  he  won't  get  into  any  trouble." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  three  months'  school  had  begun  in 
earnest.  Each  day  Hope  found  new 
interest  in  her  small  class  and  in  her 
surroundings.  She  readily  learned  to  dis- 
pense with  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  to 
which  she  had  been  born,  substituting  instead 
a  rare  sense  of  independence,  an  expansion  of 
her  naturally  wild  spirit.  She  dispensed  also 
with  conventionalities,  except  such  as  were  in- 
grained with  her  nature,  yet  she  was  far  from 
happy  in  the  squaw-man's  family.  She  could 
have  ridden  home  in  a  few  hours,  but  remem- 
bered too  keenly  her  mother's  anger  and  her 
father's  parting  words.     He  said  to  her : 

"You  have  hurt  your  mother  and  spoiled 
her  summer  by  the  stand  you  have  taken.  You 
are  leaving  here  against  my  wishes  and  against 
your  own  judgment.  The  only  thing  I've  got 
to  say  is  this :  don't  come  back  here  till  you've 


40  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

finished  your  contract  up  there,  till  youVe 
kept  your  word  to  the  letter.     No  one  of  my  j 
blood  is  going  back  on  their  word.     A  few  1 
rough  knocks  will  do  you  good.*' 

He  probably  discovered  in  a  very  few  hours 
how  much  he  loved  his  girl,  how  she  had  grown 
into  his  life,  for  the  next  day  after  she  had  left 
he  drove  to  the  distant  town  and  hunted  up 
his  wife's  nephew,  who  had  caused  all  this 
trouble. 

"You  deserve  another  thrashing,"  he  said 
when  he  had  found  him,  "  but  now  you've  got 
to  turn  to  and  do  what  you  can  to  bring  things 
back  to  where  they  were.  Hope's  left  home 
and  's  gone  to  teaching  school  up  in  the  moun- 
tains at  Harris'.  Now,  what  in  thunder  am  I 
going  to  do  about  it?  She  can't  live  there  with 
those  breeds.  Lord,  I  slept  there  once  and 
the  fleas  nearly  ate  me  up!" 

The  boy's  face  turned  a  trifle  pale.  "I'm 
sorry,  uncle,  about  this.  I  never  thought  she 
would  do  such  a  thing,  on  my  account — not 
after  I  left.  And  she's  gone  to  Joe  Harris* 
place  1    I  know  all  about  that,  a  regular  nest 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  41 

of  low  breeds  and  rustlers.  She  can't  stay 
there!" 

"  But  she  will,  just  the  same,"  announced  the 
man,  "because  when  she  told  me  that  she'd 
promised  Harris,  and  that  she  was  going,  any- 
way, I  told  her  to  go  and  take  her  medicine  till 
the  school  term  was  ended." 

"  But  surely  you  won't  allow  her  to  stay,  to 
live  at  Joe  Harris' I  There  are  other  people 
up  there,  white  people,  with  whom  she  could 
live.  Why,  uncle,  you  can't  allow  her  to  stay 
there!" 

"Why  not?  She's  made  her  nest,  let  her 
lie  in  it  for  awhile — ^fleas  and  all.  It  won't 
hurt  her  any.  But  I'm  going  to  keep  a  close 
eye  on  her  just  the  same.  I  couldn't  go  up 
there  myself  on  account  of  your  aunt's  being 
here,  but  I  was  thinking  about  it  all  last  night, 
and  I  finally  concluded  to  send  a  bunch  of  cat- 
tle up  there,  beef  cattle,  and  hold  'em  for  ship- 
ment. Now  I  came  here  to  town  to  tell  you 
that  your  aunt  wants  you  to  come  back  to  the 
ranch,  but  you're  not  going  to  come  back,  see? 
You're  going  up  there  and  hold  those  cattle 


42  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

for  a  spell,  and  keep  your  eye  on  my  girl.  I 
don't  give  a  damn  about  the  steers — it's  the 
girl;  but  you've  got  to  have  an  excuse  for  be- 
ing there.  Your  aunt's  got  to  have  an  excuse, 
too.  These  cattle — there's  two  hundred  head 
of  'em — they're  yours — see?  I'll  have  'em  all 
vented  to-morrow,  for  in  case  Hope  thought 
they  wasn't  yours  she  might  catch  on.  You 
can  ship  'em  in  the  fall  for  your  trouble.  She 
won't  think  anything  of  you  holding  cattle  up 
there,  because  the  range  is  so  good.  So  you 
look  out  for  her,  see  how  she  is  every  day,  and 
send  me  word  by  McCullen,  who  I'll  send 
along  with  you.  You  can  take  a  cook  and 
another  man  if  you  need  one.  And  now  don't 
let  her  catch  on  that  I  had  a  hand  in  this !  Seen 
anything  of  them  blame  New  Yorkers  yet?" 
Young  Carter  shook  his  head  absent-mind- 
edly. He  was  filled  with  delight  at  this  clever 
scheme  of  his  uncle's.  "No?  Well,  mebbe 
there's  a  telegram.  Your  aunt  expected  me 
to  take  them  back  to  the  ranch  to-morrow. 
Never  mind  thanking  me  for  the  cattle.  You 
do  your  part  to  the  letter.     Send  me  word 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  43 

every  day  and  don't  forget.  And  another 
thing,  just  quit  your  thinking  about  marrying 
that  girl,  and  keep  your  hands  off  of  her! 
Remember  she's  in  a  wild  country  up  there, 
among  tough  customers,  and  she  probably 
knows  it  by  now,  and  the  chances  are  she's  got 
a  gun  buckled  onto  her! " 

He  was  right.  Hope  found  herself  among 
too  many  rough  characters  to  feel  safe  with- 
out a  gun  concealed  beneath  her  blouse  or 
jacket,  yet  rough  as  the  men  were,  they  treated 
this  quiet-faced  girl  with  the  utmost  respect, 
perhaps  fearing  her.  Her  reputation  as  a 
phenomenal  shot  was  not  far-fetched,  and  had 
reached  the  remotest  corners  of  the  country. 
She  had  played  with  a  gun  as  a  baby,  had  been 
allowed  to  use  one  when  a  wee  child,  and  had 
grown  up  with  the  passion  for  firearms  strong 
within  her.  Shooting  was  a  gift  with  her, 
perfected  by  daily  practice.  In  one  of  her 
rooms  at  the  ranch  the  girl  had  such  a  collec- 
tion of  firearms  as  would  have  filled  the  heart 
of  many  an  old  connoisseur  with  longing.  It 
was  her  one  passion,  perhaps  not  a  more  ex- 


44  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

pensive  one  than  most  women  possess ;  yet,  for 
a  girl,  unique.  Her  father  gratified  her  in 
this,  just  as  other  fathers  gratify  their  girls  in 
their  desire  for  music,  art,  fine  clothes,  or  all, 
as  the  case  may  be.  But  the  things  that  most 
girls  love  so  well  had  small  place  in  the  life  of 
Hope  Hathaway.  She  cared  little  for  music, 
and  less  for  fine  clothes.  Society  she  detested, 
declaring  that  a  full  season  in  New  York 
would  kill  her.  Perhaps  if  she  had  not  been 
filled  with  the  determination  to  stay  away  from 
it,  its  excitement  might  finally  have  won  her; 
but  she  was  of  the  West.  Its  vastness  filled  her 
with  a  love  that  was  part  of  her  nature.  Its 
boundless  prairies,  its  freedom,  were  greater 
than  all  civilization  had  to  offer  her. 

She  brought  with  her  to  the  mountains  a 
long-distance  rifle  and  a  brace  of  six-shooters. 
A  shotgun  she  seldom  used,  for  the  reason  that 
to  her  quick,  accurate  eye  a  rifle  did  better, 
more  varied  work,  and  answered  every  purpose 
of  a  shotgun.  It  was  said  that  each  bird  she 
marked  on  the  wing  dropped  at  her  feet  in  two 
pieces,  its  head  severed  smoothly.     This  may 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  45 

not  have  been  true  always,  but  the  fact  re- 
mains that  the  birds  dropped  when  she  touched 
the  trigger. 

She  was  an  odd  character  for  a  girl,  reserved 
and  quiet  even  with  her  most  intimate  friends, 
rough  and  impulsive  as  a  boy  sometimes,  in 
speech  and  actions,  again  as  dignified  as  the 
proudest  queen.  Her  friends  never  knew  how 
to  take  her,  because  they  never  understood  her. 
She  left,  so  far  along  her  trail  in  life,  nothing 
but  shattered  ideals  and  delusions,  but  she  had 
not  become  cynical  or  embittered,  only  wiser. 
After  her  first  week's  stay  at  Harris'  she  began 
to  realize  that  perhaps  she  had  always  expected 
too  much  of  people.  Here  were  people  of 
whom  she  had  expected  nothing  opening  up 
new  side  lights  on  life  that  she  had  never 
thought  to  explore.  Life  seemed  full  of  pos- 
sibilities to  her  now,  at  least,  immediate  possi- 
bilities. 

She  had  not  met  again  the  courteous, 
smooth-faced  young  man  who  had  mistaken 
her  for  an  Indian  girl,  though  he  had  come  the 
next  morning  for  the  horses,  and  had  ridden 


46  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

past  the  ranch  more  than  once.  Yet  she  had 
not  forgotten  the  incident,  or  what  the  Harris 
girls  had  told  her,  for  daily  as  she  passed  the 
group  of  loungers  on  her  return  from  school 
she  heard  his  name  gruffly  spoken,  intermixed 
with  oaths.  They  certainly  meant  mischief, 
and  she  was  curious  to  know  what  it  was. 

The  first  school  week  had  ended.  On  Friday 
night  she  wondered  how  she  could  manage  to 
exist  through  Saturday  and  Sunday,  hut  Sat- 
urday morning  found  her  in  the  saddle,  accom- 
panied by  the  three  largest  Harris  boys,  en 
route  for  the  highest  peaks  of  the  mountains. 

"This  is  something  like  living,"  she  ex- 
claimed, pulling  in  her  horse  after  the  first  few 
miles.  "How  pretty  all  of  this  is!  What 
people  call  scenery,  I  suppose.  But  give  me 
the  prairie,  smooth  and  level  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach!  There's  nothing  like  it  in  all  the 
world!  The  open  prairie,  a  cool,  spring  day 
like  this,  and  a  horse  that  will  go  till  it's  ready 
to  fall  dead — that  is  life!  Who  is  it  that  lives 
over  there?"  she  asked,  pointing  toward  some 
ranch  buildings,  nestled  in  a  low,  green  valley. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  47 

"That's  the  Englishman's  place,"  an- 
swered the  soft-voiced  twin. 

"  Sheep-man,"  explained  Dave  disgustedly. 
"See  them  sheds?" 

"  Oh,  the  new  man  by  the  name  of  Living- 
ston. Do  you  boys  know  him? "  asked  the  girl 
curiously. 

"  Nope !  Don't  want  to,  neither.  Seen  him 
lots  of  times,  though,"  answered  Dave. 

"  He's  come  in  here  without  bein'  asked,  an' 
thinks  he  can  run  the  whole  country,"  ex- 
plained the  soft-voiced  twin. 

"Is  he  trying  to  run  the  whole  country?" 
asked  Hope. 

"Well,  he's  runnin'  his  sheep  over  every- 
body's range,  an'  they  ain't  goin'  to  stand  for 
it,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  But  what  can  they  do  about  it?  Have  they 
asked  him  to  move  his  sheep?" 

"  No.  What's  the  use  after  they've  been  over 
the  range — spoiled  it,  anyhow.  No,  you  bet 
they  ain't  goin'  to  ask  him  nothing ! " 

The  girl  thought  for  a  moment,  absently 
pulling  the  "  witches'  knots  "  from  her  horse's 


48  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

mane,  while  it  climbed  a  hill  at  a  swinging 
gait,  then  continued  as  through  talking  to 
herself : 

"  Once  upon  a  time  a  young  man  took  what 
money  he  had  in  the  world,  and  going  into  a 
far-away,  wild  country  started  in  business  for 
himself.  He  had  heard,  probably,  that  there 
was  more  money  in  sheep  than  in  cattle.  A 
great  many  people  do  hear  that,  so  he  bought 
sheep,  thinking,  perhaps,  to  make  a  pile  of 
money  in  a  few  years,  and  then  go  back  to  his 
home  and  marry  some  nice,  good  girl  of  his 
choice.  It  takes  money  to  get  married  and 
make  a  home,  and  to  do  mostly  anything,  they 
say,  and  so  this  young  man  bought  sheep,  for 
no  one  goes  into  the  sheep  business  or  any  other 
kind  of  business  unless  they  want  to  make 
money.  They  don't  generally  do  it  for  fun. 
And,  of  course,  he  thought,  as  they  all  do,  to 
get  rich  immediately.  He  made  a  great  mis- 
take in  the  beginning,  being  extremely  igno- 
rant. He  brought  his  sheep  to  a  cattle  country, 
where  there  were  no  other  sheep  near  his  own. 
All  the  men  around  him  hated  sheep,  as  men 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  49 

who  own  cattle  always  do,  and  hating  the 
sheep,  they  thought  they  hated  the  sheep-man 
also,  who  really  was  a  very  harmless  young 
man,  and  wouldn't  have  offended  them  for 
anything.  But  these  men's  dislike  for  the 
sheep  grew  daily,  and  so  their  fancied  dislike 
for  the  young  man  grew  in  proportion. 

"The  men  in  the  country  would  meet  to- 
gether in  little  groups,  and  every  day  some 
man  would  have  some  new  grievance  to  tell 
the  others.  It  finally  got  on  their  brains, 
until  all  they  could  think  or  talk  about  was  this 
new  man  and  his  sheep.  The  more  they 
thought  and  talked,  the  more  angry  they  be- 
came, until  finally  they  forgot  that  he  was  an- 
other man  like  themselves — in  all  likelihood  a 
good,  honest  man,  who  would  not  have  done 
them  wrong  knowingly.  They  forgot  a  great 
many  things,  and  all  they  could  think  about 
night  or  day  was  how  they  could  do  something 
to  injure  his  business  or  himself.  They  got  so 
after  awhile  that  they  talked  only  in  low 
whispers  about  him,  taking  great  pains  that 
their  families,  children,  and  even  their  big  hoys. 


50  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

should  not  know  their  plans.  They  made  a 
great  mistake  in  not  taking  their  boys  into 
their  confidence,  because  hoys  are  very  often 
more  reliable  than  men,  and  can  always  keep 
a  secret  a  whole  lot  better.  But  perhaps  the 
fathers  knew  that  the  boys  had  very  good  sense 
and  would  not  go  into  anything  like  that  with- 
out a  better  reason  than  they  had,  which  was  no 
reason  at  all. 

"  I  never  heard  just  what  they  planned  to  do 
to  this  newcomer  to  get  rid  of  him  and  his 
sheep,  but  I  know  how  it  had  to  end.'*  She 
looked  up,  searching  each  boy's  intent,  aston- 
ished face. 

"Say,  what're  you  drivin'  at,  anjrway?  You 
can't  fool  me — it's  him!'^  exclaimed  Dave, 
pointing  toward  the  sheep-ranch.  "You're 
makin'  up  a  story  about  him!" 

"How'd  you  know  all  that?"  asked  the 
quicker,  soft-voiced  twin. 

"  Know  all  that.  Why,  how  did  you  boys 
know  all  that?  I  suppose  that  I  have  ears, 
too — and  I've  heard  of  such  things  before," 
she  replied. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  51 

"But  you  don't  know  how  the  end'U  be. 
That's  one  thing  you  don't  know,"  declared  the 
soft-voiced  twin.     "  You  can't  know  that." 

"  She  might  be  a  fortune-teller  like  grand- 
mother White  Blanket,"  laughed  the  other. 

"Is  that  old  squaw  in  the  farthest  tepee 
from  the  house  your  own  grandmother?" 
asked  the  girl. 

"Yep,  an'  she  ain't  no  squaw,  either!  She's 
a  French  half-breed,"  he  said,  with  an  uncon- 
scious proud  uplifting  of  the  shoulders. 

Hope  laughed  slightly.  "  What's  the  other 
half? "  she  asked.  The  boy  gave  her  a  look  of 
deep  commiseration. 

"  I  thought  you  had  more  learnin'  than  that  I 
Why,  the  other  half's  white,  of  course." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ! "  gasped  the  girl.  "  My 
education  along  those  lines  must  have  been 
somewhat  neglected.  I  had  an  idea  that  those 
were  Indians  camped  down  at  your  place.  But 
French  half-breeds, — a  mixture  of  white  and 
French  J — ^that's  a  different  matter!"  She 
stopped  her  horse  and  laughed  with  the  immod- 
eration of  a  boy.     "  That  is  rich,"  she  cried. 


52  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"If  ever  I  go  to  New  York  again  I  shall 
spring  that  on  the  Prince.  ^Mon  Dieul  *  he  will 
exclaim.  *What  then  are  we,  Mademoiselle, 
we^  the  aristocracy — the  great  nation  of  the 
French? ^"^  Her  face  sobered.  "But  this  is 
not  the  question.  I  do  know  how  this  will  end, 
and  I  am  not  a  fortune-teller,  either.  I  know 
that  the  ones  who  are  in  the  wrong  about  this 
matter  will  get  the  worst  of  it.  Sometimes  it 
means  states  prison,  sometimes  death — at  all 
events,  something  not  expected.  I  tell  you, 
boys,  I  wouldn't  want  to  be  on  the  wrong  side 
of  this  for  anything!  And  do  you  know,  I 
am  real  glad  that  your  father  doesn't  need 
your  help.  We  will  take  a  httle  side  of  our 
own  and  watch  things — what  do  you  say?  It 
will  be  lots  of  fun,  and  we'll  know  all  the  time 
that  we  are  in  the  right,  and  maybe  we  can 
prevent  them  from  doing  any  real  wrong  to 
themselves."  She  watched  them  closely  to  see 
how  they  accepted  the  suggestion.  Her  in- 
spiration might  be  considered  a  reckless  one, 
but  their  young  minds  lent  themselves  readily 
to  her  influence. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  53 

"The  old  man  licked  me  this  mornin'," 
growled  Dave.  "An'  he  can  go  straight  to  the 
hot  place  now,  for  all  o'  me  I  I'm  goin'  off  on 
the  round-up,  anyway,  next  year." 

"You  boys  know,  don't  you,  that  if  your 
father  ever  found  out  that  I  knew  anything 
about  this  thing,  he  would  probably  give  me  a 
licking,  too — and  send  me  out  of  the  country? " 
This  for  effect. 

"I'd  like  to  see  him  lay  hands  on  you," 
roared  Dave.  "  I'd  fill  him  so  full  of  lead  that 
—that " 

Words  failed  him. 

"I'd  kill  him  if  he  did.  Miss  Hathaway," 
exclaimed  the  small  boy,  Ned,  with  quiet  assur- 
ance that  brought  a  hint  of  laughter  to  the 
girl's  face.  The  soft- voiced  twin  rode  up  very 
close  to  her. 

"  He  ain't  goin'  to  find  it  out,  an'  don't  you 
worry;  we'll  all  stand  by  you  while  there's  one 
of  us  left!" 

"  All  right,  boys,  we're  comrades  now.  I'll 
tell  you  what  we'll  do;  we'll  form  a  band — 
brigade — all  by  ourselves.     I  am  commanding 


54  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

officer  and  you  are  my  faithful  scouts.  How's 
that?"  Hope's  fancy  was  leading  her  away. 
" Come  on,"  she  cried,  "let's  race  this  flat!" 

The  self-appointed  commanding  officer 
reached  the  smooth  valley  far  in  advance  of  her 
faithful  scouts,  who  yelled  in  true  Indian 
fashion  as  they  rode  up  with  her. 

"  I'll  run  you  a  mile  an'  beat  you  all  hollow," 
declared  Dave.  "  But  on  a  two  hundred  yard 
stretch  like  this  here  place  my  horse  don't  have 
no  chance  to  get  started." 

"I'll  bet  my  quirt  against  yourn  that  you 
lose,"  said  the  soft-voiced  twin. 

"  Keep  your  quirt!  I  don't  want  it,  nohow. 
One's  enough  fur  me.  But  I  can  beat  her  just 
the  same ! "     Dave  was  stubbornly  positive. 

"  You'll  have  to  ride  my  horse  if  you  do  beat 
her,"  continued  the  soft-voiced  twin.  Dave 
grew  furious. 

"Now,  see  here,  that  raw-boned,  loose- 
jointed,  watch-eyed  cayuse  o'  yourn  couldn't 
run  a  good  half  mile  without  f  allin'  dead  in  his 
tracks!  What'er  you  a-givin'  me,  anyhow?" 
At  that  instant  his  attention  was  fortunately 


"  Nearly  unseating  the  old  cow-puncher  in  hei 
demonstrations  of  welcome." 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  55 

taken.  "  Where'd  all  them  cattle  come  from? " 
he  exclaimed. 

They  had  turned  up  a  narrow  gulch,  the 
youngest  boy  and  Hope  taking  the  lead,  and 
had  traveled  it  for  perhaps  fifty  yards  when 
they  found  themselves  at  a  standstill  before  a 
drove  of  cattle  that  were  making  their  way 
slowly  down  the  narrow  trail. 

"  We  won't  go  back,"  called  the  girl.  "  Come 
on  up  here  and  wait  till  they  pass."  And 
followed  by  the  boys  she  guided  her  horse  up 
the  steep,  rocky  side  of  a  high  bank,  and  waited 
while  the  cattle  came  slowly  on.  They  counted 
them  as  they  passed  in  twos  and  threes  down 
the  narrow  valley.  When  nearly  two  hundred 
had  gone  by  a  rider  came  in  sight  around  the 
bend  of  the  hill.  Hope's  horse  whinnied,  and 
the  man's  answered  back,  then  the  girl  gave 
a  scream  of  delight,  and,  unmindful  of  the 
rocky  bank,  or  of  the  appearance  of  two  other 
riders,  rushed  down,  nearly  unseating  the 
old  cow-puncher  in  her  demonstrations  of 
welcome. 

''Jim!    Dear   old   Jim!     Where   did   you 


56  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

come  from?  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you !  Why, 
Jim,  I'd  rather  see  you  than  anyone  in  the 
world  I  How  glad  I  am!  Boys,"  she  called, 
"come  down  here.  This  is  Jim,  my  dear  old 
father  Jim! "  Old  Jim  McCuUen's  eyes  were 
dimmed  with  tears  as  he  looked  from  the  girl's 
happy,  flushed  face  to  the  last  of  the  cattle  that 
were  going  out  of  sight  around  the  bend  of  the 
gulch.  "  Where  did  you  come  from,  Jim,  and 
what  brings  you  up  here?  Whose  cattle? 
Why,  they're  ours,  and  rebrandedl  What  are 
you  doing  with  them?"  Just  then  the  two 
riders,  whom  in  her  excitement  she  had  failed 
to  notice,  rode  up.  "Why,  Syd,  hello,"  she 
said.  "And  you're  here,  too!  I  thought  Jim 
was  alone." 

She  changed  instantly  from  her  glad  excite- 
ment, speaking  with  the  careless  abruptness  of 
a  boy.  Her  cousin  rode  alongside.  She  gave 
one  glance  at  his  companion,  then  wheeled  her 
horse  about  and  stationed  herself  a  short  dis- 
tance away  beside  the  breed  boys. 

"  This  is  a  happy  surprise,  Hope,"  exclaimed 
her  cousin.     "  What  are  you  doing  up  here  so 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  57 

far  away  from  home?'*  She  regarded  him  a 
trifle  more  friendly. 

"Is  it  possible  you  don't  know?  Didn't 
you  tell  him,  Jim,  that  I  had  gone  away?  Oh, 
I  forgot,  you  weren't  at  the  ranch  when  I  left, 
so  you  couldn't  tell  him.  Well,  I  am  here,  as 
you  can  see,  Sydney — ^partly  because  I  wanted 
a  change,  partly  because  they  wanted  a 
school-teacher  up  here.  I  am  staying  at  Joe 
Harris'.  What  are  you  doing  here  with  those 
cattle?" 

"  Oh,  thought  I'd  go  to  work  for  a  change. 
Just  some  cattle  that  I  bought  to  hold  for  fall 
shipment."  He  turned  to  the  man  at  his  side, 
apologizing,  then  proceeded  to  introduce  him 
to  his  cousin.  The  girl  cut  it  short  by  a  pecul- 
iar brief  nod. 

"Oh,  I've  met  Mr.  Livingston  before!" 

"Indeed?"  said  Carter  in  surprise,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"At  Harris'!"  explained  the  sheep-man. 
"She  gave  me  one  of  the  sweetest,  most  re- 
freshing drinks  of  water  it  has  ever  been  my 
privilege  to  enjoy."    He  spoke  easily,  yet  was 


58  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

much  perturbed.  Here  was  his  shy  Indian 
maid,  a  remarkably  prepossessed,  up-to-date 
young  woman.  It  took  a  little  time  to  get  it 
straightened  out  in  his  mind. 

"Of  course  I  might  have  known  that  you 
two  would  have  met.  There  are  so  few  people 
here."     Carter  tried  to  speak  indifferently. 

"Well,  good-by,"  said  the  girl,  moving 
away. 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry!  Where  are  you  go- 
ing, Hope? "  called  her  cousin. 

"  Sorry,  but  can't  wait  any  longer.  We're 
off  for  a  day's  exploring.     Good-by." 

"  I'll  see  you  this  evening.  We're  going  to 
camp  near  Harris',"  said  Carter. 

"No,  not  this  evening,"  she  called  back  to 
him  as  she  rode  on  up  the  gulch.  "  I  won't  be 
back  till  late,  and  then  I'll  be  too  tired  to  see 
anyone.  Good-by,  Jim — I'll  see  you  to-mor- 
row." Old  Jim  watched  her  until  she  was  lost 
to  sight  in  the  turn  of  the  gulch.  Livingston 
also  watched  her  until  she  was  out  of  sight. 
She  rode  astride,  wearing  a  neat  divided  skirt, 
and  sat  her  horse  with  all  the  ease  and  perfec- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  59 

tion  of  a  young  cowboy.  Old  Jim  McCullen 
went  on  in  trail  of  the  cattle,  while  young  Car- 
ter and  Livingston  followed  leisurely. 

"Rather  a  cool  greeting  from  a  girl  one 
expects  to  marry,"  said  Carter,  under  his 
breath. 

"Is  it  possible  —  your  fiancee!"  Living- 
ston's face  became  thoughtful.  "  You  are  to 
be  congratulated,"  he  said. 

Carter  laughed  nervously.  "  I  can  scarcely 
say  she  is  ihat,  yet — ^but  it  is  her  mother's  wish. 
We  have  grown  up  together.  Miss  Hath- 
away is  my  cousin,  my  second  cousin.  I  can 
see  no  reason  why  we  will  not  be  married — 
some  time." 

"Miss  Hathaway''  mused  his  companion. 
"And  you  love  her?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Carter,  wondering  at 
the  other's  abrupt  way  of  speaking. 

"And  may  I  ask  if  she  loves  you?"  The 
sheep-man's  tone  was  quiet  and  friendly.  Car- 
ter wished  that  it  might  have  been  insolent. 
As  it  was  he  could  only  laugh  uneasily. 

"  It  would  seem  not,"  he  answered.     "  To- 


60  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

day  she  is  like  an  icicle — ^to-morrow  she  will  be 
a  most  devoted  girl.  That  is  Hope — as 
changeable  as  the  wind.  One  never  knows 
what  to  expect.  One  day  loving — ^the  next, 
cold  and  indifferent.  But  then,  you  see,  I  am 
used  to  her  little  ways." 

"  I  wish  you  all  the  happiness  you  deserve, 
Mr.  Carter,"  said  Livingston  a  little  later,  as 
he  rode  off,  taking  a  short  cut  to  his  ranch. 

^^Hope — Hope  Hathaway;  Carter's  cousin. 
What  an  idiot  I've  been  to  think  of  her 
as  an  Indian  girl!  An  odd  name — Hope. 
Hope  Hath  a  way"  he  mused  as  he  rode  home- 
ward.   "  If  only  I  had  the  right  to  hopel  '* 


CHAPTER  V 

I  WISH  there  was  a  shorter  cut  to  get 
home,"  said  the  girl  wearily.  "I'm  just 
about  tired.  Climbing  mountains  is  a 
little  out  of  my  line.  I  wonder  how  long  it  will 
take  to  get  used  to  it." 

"  There  is  a  shorter  way,  Miss  Hathaway," 
said  one  of  the  breed  boys.  "  It's  through  that 
sheep-ranch  there.  We  always  used  to  go  that 
way  before  they  fenced  it  in,  but  there's  gates 
to  it  if  we  can  find  'em." 

"Let's  go  through  that  way,  then,  if  it's 
shorter.  Of  course  it  is  shorter — I  can  see 
that,  and  we'll  trust  to  luck  to  be  able  to  see  the 
gates.     I  suppose  they're  wire  gates." 

"  Yes,  just  regular  wire  gates,  an'  it's  gettin' 
dark  pretty  blame  fast,  but  mebbe  we  can  find 
'em  all  right." 

So  they  followed  the  fence,  searching  in  the 
dim  light  for  the  almost  invisible  gate — ^the 

61 


62  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

girl  who  had  that  day  appointed  herself  com- 
manding officer  and  her  three  brave  scouts. 

Alongside  the  wire  fence  they  followed  a 
narrow  cow-trail  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
then  the  path  disappeared  inside  the  field,  and 
the  side-hills  along  which  they  were  obliged  to 
travel  were  rough  and  dangerous.  It  was  late, 
and  darkness  settled  down  around  them,  cut- 
ting from  their  vision  everything  but  a  small 
line  of  fence  and  the  nearby  hills. 

They  made  slow  headway  over  the  rocky 
banks.  Hope,  tired  with  the  day's  exploring 
and  hungry  after  her  long  ride  and  the  some- 
what slender  diet  of  the  past  week,  was  sorry 
they  had  not  gone  the  road,  which,  though 
longer,  would  not  have  taken  such  a  length  of 
time  to  travel.  The  boys  were  good  scouts, 
yet  it  became  evident  that  they  had  never  fol- 
lowed the  new  line  of  fence  before.  Their 
horses  slipped  upon  the  sides  of  steep  inclines 
which  became  more  rocky  and  dangerous  as 
they  proceeded.  Darkness  increased  rapidly. 
One  horse  in  the  rear  fell  down,  but  the  rider 
was  upon  his  feet  in  an  instant ;  then  they  dis- 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  63 

mounted  and  led  their  horses,  traveling  along 
very  slowly  in  Indian  file.  Some  time  later 
they  found  the  wire  gate,  much  to  the  girl's 
relief.  It  was  then  quite  dark.  The  moon 
had  risen,  but  showed  itself  fitfully  behind 
black,  stormy  looking  clouds.  Without  diffi- 
culty they  discovered  a  trail  leading  some- 
where, and  followed  it  until  they  rounded  a 
point  from  which  they  could  see  the  light  in 
the  sheep-man's  house. 

"Why,  we're  almost  up  to  his  house!"  ex- 
claimed Hope.  "This  isn't  the  way.  We 
don't  want  to  go  there ! " 

"  I  reckon  we'll  have  to  get  pretty  close  up  to 
it  to  find  the  road  that  goes  to  the  other  gate," 
said  the  soft-voiced  twin. 

"  How  foolish  we've  been,"  sighed  the  girl. 

"  Yep,  a  pack  o'  idiots,"  agreed  Dave. 

"  But  it's  too  dark  for  anyone  to  see  us — or 
notice  us,"  she  said  with  relief.  "  I  think  we 
might  go  right  up  to  the  house  and  look 
through  the  windows  without  anyone  seeing 


us." 


Let's  do  it,"  suggested  Dave. 


64  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  Well  I  should  say  not! "  exclaimed  the  girl. 
"  It's  the  last  thing  on  earth  I  would  do — peek 
into  anyone's  window  1  I  am  not  so  curious  to 
see  the  interior  of  his  house — or  anyone's  else." 

"I'll  bet  they're  just  eatin'  supper,"  said 
Ned  hungrily. 

"All  the  better,"  replied  Hope;  "there  will 
be  no  one  around  to  see  us  then.  I  wonder 
how  much  closer  we'll  have  to  go? " 

"Not  much  further,"  answered  the  soft- 
voiced  twin  wisely.  "  See,  there's  the  barns, 
an'  the  road  ain't  a  great  ways  off."  He  led 
the  way,  while  Hope  and  the  boy,  Dave,  fol- 
lowed close,  and  the  youngest  boy  trailed  along 
somewhere  in  the  rear.  They  passed  between 
the  stables  and  the  house,  then,  aided  by  the  fit- 
ful moon,  found  the  road,  along  which  they 
made  better  time. 

Hope  felt  a  great  relief  as  they  began  to 
leave  the  house  in  the  distance,  though  why, 
she  could  scarcely  have  explained.  She  said  to 
herself  that  she  was  in  a  hurry  to  reach  home, 
but  as  they  neared  the  huge,  flat-roofed  sheep- 
sheds  she  slowed  up  her  horse,  which  had  gone 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  65 

on  ahead  of  the  others,  and  glanced  back  at 
her  approaching  scouts.  The  twins  came  up 
with  her,  then  she  stopped  and  looked  be- 
hind. 

"Where's  Ned?"  she  asked  sharply,  a  sud- 
den suspicion  entering  her  head.  "What's 
keeping  him?" 

"He  went  up  to  the  house  to  see  what's 
goin'  on,"  replied  Dave.  "  I  saw  him  start  for 
that  way." 

"  How  dared  he  do  it !  He  will  be  seen  and 
then  what  will  they  think!  We  will  wait  for 
him  here."  Then  angrily  to  the  boy:  "If 
you  knew  he  was  going  to  do  that  Indian  trick 
why  didn't  you  stop  him? " 

"I  didn't  know  nothin'  till  I  missed  him," 
replied  the  boy. 

"  No,  we  didn't  know  he  was  goin',  but  when 
we  saw  he  was  gone  for  sure  it  wouldn't  'a'  done 
no  good  to  'a'  gone  after  him.  Anyway,  we 
wouldn't  'a'  left  you  alone! "  The  soft-voiced 
twin  was  a  genius  at  finding  explanations.  He 
was  never  at  a  loss. 

The  girl  recovered  her  temper  instantly. 


66  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"You  did  quite  right,  my  brave  scout,"  she 
cried.  "I  see  you  have  learned  the  first  and 
greatest  principle  of  your  vocation.  'Never 
desert  a  lady, no  mailer  what  danger  she  may  be 
in.  But  what  a  temptation  it  must  have  been 
to  you  to  follow  him  and  bring  him  back  to 
me!"  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  sarcasm 
was  wasted  upon  the  breed  boys,  who  waited 
stolidly  with  her  near  some  sheltering  brush 
for  the  truant  Ned,  whose  mischievousness  had 
led  him  off  the  trail. 

At  last  he  rode  up  with  them,  surprised  out 
of  breath  to  find  them  there  waiting  for  him. 
The  girl  took  him  by  the  sleeve.  "  You're  a 
bad  boy.  Next  time  ask  me  when  you  have  an 
inclination  to  do  anything  like  that.  Now 
give  an  account  of  yourself.  What  did  you 
see?" 

"  I  just  wanted  to  see  what  they  had  to  eat, 
so  I  peeked  in,"  apologized  the  youngster. 
"  There  was  two  men  eatin'  their  supper.  The 
boss  wasn't  there.  I  heard  old  Morris  tell  an- 
other fellow  that  he  was  out  helpin'  put  in  the 
sheep." 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  67 

"  But  here  are  the  sheds,  and  surely  there  are 
no  sheep  here,"  she  exclaimed  anxiously. 

"They're  keepin'  'em  in  the  open  corrals 
down  the  road  a  piece,"  explained  the  soft- 
voiced  twin.  "  They  don't  keep  no  sheep  here 
in  the  sheds  now." 

The  commanding  officer  breathed  easier. 
"  That's  good;  come  on  then,"  she  said,  riding 
ahead.  They  had  not  proceeded  fifty  yards 
when  the  low  tones  of  men's  voices  reached 
them.  Simultaneously  they  stopped  their 
horses  and  listened,  but  nothing  save  an  indis- 
tinct murmur  could  be  heard.  One  of  the 
twins  slipped  from  his  horse  and  handed  the 
bridle  reins  to  the  girl,  then  crept  forward.  In 
the  darkness  she  could  not  tell  which  one  it  was, 
nor  did  she  care.  She  was  filled  with  excite- 
ment and  the  longing  for  adventure  which  the 
time  and  place  aggravated.  Had  they  not 
that  day  formed  a  band  of  secrecy — she  and 
her  three  brave  scouts?  It  occurred  to  her  that 
it  might  be  the  sheep-man  returning  with  a 
herder,  but  if  so  he  had  no  right  to  stand  at 
such  a  distance  and  talk  in  guarded  tones.  The 


68  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

very  atmosphere  of  the  place  felt  suspicious. 
They  drew  their  horses  to  one  side  of  the  road- 
way, waiting  in  absolute  silence  for  the  return 
of  the  scout.  The  voices  reached  them  occa- 
sionally from  the  opposite  side  of  a  clump  of 
brush  not  a  stone's  throw  away. 

They  waited  several  minutes,  which  seemed 
interminable,  then  a  dark  form  appeared  and 
a  voice  whispered  softly:  "  Somethin's  up! 
Let's  get  the  horses  over  by  the  fence  so's  they 
can't  hear  us."  The  twin  led  the  way,  taking 
a  wide  circuit  about  the  spot  from  where  the 
sound  of  voices  came.  They  reached  the  fence 
quickly  without  noise,  securing  their  horses 
behind  a  screen  of  scrubby  willows. 

"Now,  go  on,"  said  the  girl.  "What  did 
you  hear?" 

"When  I  crawled  up  close  I  saw  two  men. 
One  of  'em  said,  '  Shut  up.  You're  makin' 
too  much  noise!  Do  you  want  'em  to  hear 
you  up  to  the  house  ? '  The  other  said  he  didn't 
give  a  damn,  that  they  might  just  as  well  make 
a  good  job  of  it  an'  kill  off  Li\angston  while 
they  were  getting  rid  of  his  sheep.     These  two 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  69 

fellers  have  just  come  over  to  guard  the  road 
from  the  house  to  keep  the  men  there  from 
interferin',  but  the  mob's  down  there  at  the 
corral  waitin'  to  do  the  work.  I  found  that 
much  out  an'  then  I  sneaked  back.  I  reckon 
they're  goin'  to  drive  the  sheep  over  the  cut- 
bank." 

"  The  devils ! "  cried  Hope,  under  her  breath. 
"  They're  going  to  pile  up  the  sheep  and  kill 
him  if  he  interferes,  are  they?  We^ll  show 
them!" 

"We  can't  do  anything,"  said  the  boy. 
"  There's  more'n  a  dozen  men  out  there  at  the 
corrals,  an'  it's  darker'n  pitch." 

"So  we'll  just  have  to  stand  here  and  see 
that  crime  committed  I"  she  burst  out.  "No, 
not  on  your  life !  You  boys  have  got  to  stand 
by  me.  Surely  you're  just  as  brave  as  a  girl? 
We're  going  over  there  where  we  can  see  what's 
going  on,  and  the  first  man  that  tries  to  drive 
a  sheep  out  of  that  corral  gets  one  of  these  I " 
She  patted  the  barrel  of  her  rifle  as  she  pulled 
it  from  its  saddle  case.  "  Get  your  guns  and 
come  along."     But  they  were  not  far  behind 


70  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

her  in  getting  their  weapons.  The  older  boys 
had  revolvers,  and  little  Ned  was  armed  with 
a  Winchester  repeating  shotgun. 

The  twins  were  never  seen  without  their 
guns,  and  had  the  reputation  of  sleeping  with 
them  at  night.  For  wildness  those  two  boys 
were  the  terror  of  the  country.  Their  hearts 
sang  a  heathenish  song  of  joy  at  this  new  ad- 
venture. Surely  they  were  as  brave  as  a  girl! 
Her  taunt  rankled  some.  They  would  show 
her  that  they  were  not  cowards  I  She  had  be- 
gun to  worry  already! 

"  Oh,  what  if  it  should  be  too  late !  What  if 
we  should  be  too  late!  Oh,  it  can't  be!  Let's 
go  faster! "  she  cried. 

The  breed  boys  crept  along  close  to  the 
ground,  making  altogether  much  less  noise 
than  the  girl,  who  seemed  to  think  that  speed 
and  action  were  all  that  was  necessary. 

"  Sh!  Keep  quieter.  You  musn't  let  them 
know  anyone's  'round.  Those  fellers  by  the 
road  're  just  over  there,  an'  they'll  hear  us," 
whispered  Dan. 

Then   slower,   more   stealthily,   they   crept 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  71 

around  the  two  men  who  guarded  the  road,  and 
with  less  caution  approached  the  corrals,  the 
girl  meanwhile  recovering  her  composure  to  a 
great  degree,  though  her  heart  still  beat  wildly. 
The  night  seemed  a  trifle  lighter  now  to  her 
straining  eyes.  What  if  the  moon  should 
come  out,  revealing  them  to  the  men  waiting 
beyond  the  corrals?  She  grasped  her  rifle 
firmly,  and  her  heart  beat  quicker  at  the 
thought.  The  soft-voiced  twin  must  have  felt 
the  same  fear,  for  he  came  close  and  whispered 
in  her  ear :  "  The  corrals  ain't  more'n  a  rod, 
right  over  there.  We'd  better  make  a  run  for 
that  bush  there  on  this  side  of  it,  for  the  moon's 
comin'  out — see!"  He  pointed  upward.  A 
rift  had  come  in  the  black  cloud  from  which  the 
moon  shone  dimly,  growing  momentarily 
brighter.  Before  them  the  corral  loomed  up 
like  a  great  flat  patch  of  darkness,  and  to  one 
side  of  this  dark  patch  something  taller  stood 
in  dim  relief — a  small  clump  of  brush,  toward 
which  the  odd  little  scouting  party  ran  in  all 
haste.  Safe  within  its  shelter,  a  fierce  joy, 
savage  in  its  intensity,  filled  the  girl. 


72  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"Come  on,  Moon,  come  on  in  all  your 
glory! "  she  whispered;  then,  as  if  in  answer  to 
her  command,  it  came  in  full  splendor  from 
behind  its  veil  of  black.  It  might  have  been  a 
signal.  Back  in  the  hills  a  coyote  called  weirdly 
to  its  mate,  but  before  the  last  waihng  note  had 
died  away  a  sharp  report  sounded  on  the  still 
air,  followed  by  the  groans  of  a  man  in  mortal 
agony.  Hope,  upon  her  knees  in  the  brush, 
clasped  her  hands  to  her  throat  to  stifle  a 
cry. 

"Now  drive  his  damn'd  sheep  into  the 
gulch! "  conmianded  a  gruff  voice. 

Following  the  pain,  a  fierce  light  came  into 
the  girl's  eyes.  Over  tightly  closed  teeth  her 
lips  parted  dryly.  Instinctively  the  breed 
boys  crept  behind  her,  leaving  her  upon  one 
knee  before  the  heap  of  brush.  A  man  leaped 
into  the  corral  among  the  stupid  sheep,  and  as 
he  leaped  a  bullet  passed  through  his  hand. 

"God,  I'm  killed!"  he  cried,  as  he  sank 
limply  out  of  sight  among  the  sheep.  For  a 
few  moments  not  a  sound  came  except  the  oc- 
casional bleating  of  a  lamb,  then  the  gate  of 


eOPE    HATHAWAY  73 

the  corral,  which  was  ajar,  opened  as  by  some 
invisible  hand,  and  the  great  body  of  animals 
crowded  slowly  toward  the  entrance. 

"  They  think  there's  only  one  man  here,  and 
they're  not  going  to  be  bluffed  by  one,"  whis- 
pered Hope.  "  See,  they  must  be  coaxing  the 
leaders  with  hay,  and  there's  something  going 
on  back  there  that  will  make  them  stampede 
in  a  moment,  and  then  the  cut-bank!  But 
we'll  bluff  them;  make  them  think  there's  a 
whole  regiment  here.  There's  four  of  us. 
Now  get  your  guns  ready.  Good ;  now  when  I 
start,  air  of  you  shoot  at  once  as  fast  as  you  can 
load.  Aim  high  in  that  direction.  Shoot  in 
the  air,  not  anywhere  else.  Now  do  as  I  tell 
you.  Now,  all  together!"  For  two  or  three 
minutes  those  four  guns  made  music.  The 
hills  gathered  up  the  noise  and  flung  it  back, 
making  the  air  ring  with  a  deafening  sound. 
"  Shoot  up !  Shoot  higher,  or  you'll  be  hitting 
someone,"  she  admonished,  as  dark  forms  be- 
gan to  rise  from  the  groimd  beyond  the  corral 
and  run  away. 

"They're    crawling    away    like    whipped 


74  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

dogs,"  exclaimed  a  twin  in  glee.  "  I'd  like  to 
shoot  one  for  luck! " 

"Shame  on  you,"  cried  the  girl  softly. 
"That  would  be  downright  murder  while 
they're  running." 

"  I  reckon  there's  been  miu*der  already  to- 
night," said  the  soft-voiced  twin.  Hope  turned 
upon  him  fiercely:  "  That  wasn't  murder!  I 
shot  him  through  the  hand.  Murder?  Do  you 
call  it  murder  to  kill  one  of  those  beasts?  You 
mean — you  mean  that  they  killed  him!  I  for- 
got for  a  minute!  Oh,  it  couldn't  be  that  they 
killed  him — Mr.  Livingston!  Are  you  sure  he 
wasn't  up  at  the  house,  Ned?  I  must  find  out." 
She  started  toward  the  corral.  Dave  pulled 
her  back  roughly. 

"  See  there !  Those  fellers  that  was  on  guard 
down  there  're  comin'  back.  They  must  have 
left  their  horses  down  by  that  rock.  They'll 
ketch  us  sure!"  She  drew  back  into  the  brush 
again,  waiting  until  the  two  men,  whose  voices 
first  brought  suspicion  to  their  minds,  had 
passed  by,  skirting  the  corral  in  diplomatic 
manner. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  75 

Hope,  who  had  been  so  eager  to  search  the 
scene  of  bloodshed,  crept  from  the  brush  and 
took  the  opposite  direction,  followed  closely  by 
the  breed  boys.  When  they  reached  their 
horses  she  spoke: 

"  Now  you  boys  go  home.  Go  in  from  the 
back  coulee  and  sneak  into  bed.  Don't  let 
anyone  see  you,  whatever  you  do,  for  if  this 

was  ever  found  out ^"    She  waited  for  their 

imaginations  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"We  can  sneak  in  all  right,"  exclaimed 
Dave.  "We  know  how  to  do  that!  They'll 
never  find  it  out  in  ten  years! " 

"  Then  go  at  once.  Ride  fast  by  the  Spring 
coulee  and  get  there  ahead  of  the  men — ^if  there 
should  be  any  that  belong  there.  I  will  come 
later.  If  they  ask,  say  that  I'm  in  bed,  or  tak- 
ing a  walk,  or  anything  that  comes  into  your 
head.  But  you  won't  be  questioned.  You 
mustn't  be  I    Now  hurry  up ! " 

"  But  why  won't  you  come  along  with  us? " 
asked  Dave. 

"  Because  if  we  should  be  caught  together 
they  would  know  who  did  the  shooting.    If 


76  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

they  see  you  alone  they  will  not  suspect  you, 
and  if  they  see  me  alone  they  will  never  think 
of  such  a  thing.  It  is  the  wisest  way,  besides 
I  have  other  reasons.  Now  don't  stand  there 
all  night  talking  to  me,  but  go,  unless  you  want 
to  make  trouble."  She  watched  them  until 
they  were  lost  to  sight,  then  mounted  her  horse 
and  rode  back  over  the  road  that  she  had  come, 
straight  up  to  the  sheep-man's  house. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  was  fully  half  a  mile  to  Livingston's 
house.  The  trail  showed  plainly  in  the 
moonlight,  winding  in  ghostly  fashion 
through  thick  underbrush,  and  crossed  in  sev- 
eral places  by  a  small  mountain  stream  through 
which  the  horse  plunged,  splashing  the  girl 
plentifully.  She  had  an  impression  that  she 
ought  to  go  back  to  the  corral  and  discover  just 
what  mischief  had  been  done,  but  shivered  at 
the  thought  of  hunting  for  dead  men  in  the 
darkness.  A  feeling  of  weird  uneasiness  crept 
over  her.  She  wished  that  she  had  brought 
the  breed  boys  with  her,  though  realizing  that 
the  proper  thing  had  been  done  in  sending 
them  home  in  order  that  their  secret  might  be 
safe,  and  so  prevent  more  evil.  She  knew  that 
she  would  find  men  at  the  house  who  could 
take  lanterns   and  go  to  the  scene  of  the 

77 


78  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

trouble.  The  past  half  hour  seemed  remote 
and  unreal,  yet  the  picture  of  it  passed 
through  her  brain  again  and  again  before  she 
reached  the  house.  She  could  hear  the  first 
shot,  so  startling  and  unexpected,  and  the  man's 
terrible  groans  rang  in  her  ears  until  she  cried 
out  as  if  to  drive  them  from  her.  Was  he 
dead?  she  wondered.  Perhaps  he  lay  there 
wounded  and  helpless!  Was  it  Livingston? 
If  it  should  be !  She  thought  that  she  should  be 
there,  groping  over  the  bloody  ground  for 
him.  She  shook  as  with  a  chill.  How  help- 
less she  was,  after  all — a  veritable  coward,  for 
she  must  go  on  to  the  house  for  assistance! 

She  slipped  from  her  horse  at  some  distance, 
and  walked  toward  the  ray  of  light  that  came 
from  a  side  window.  Her  knees  were  weak, 
she  felt  faint  and  wearied.  At  the  house  her 
courage  failed,  she  sank  limply  beside  the  win- 
dow, and  looked  into  the  lighted  room  beyond. 
He  was  not  there!  One  man  was  reading  a 
newspaper  while  another  sat  on  an  end  of  the 
table  playing  a  mouth  harp. 

In  her  mind  she  could  see  the  body  of  Liv- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  79 

ingston  in  the  corral,  trampled  upon  and  man- 
gled by  a  multitude  of  frightened  sheep.  She 
stifled  a  cry  of  horror.  Why  had  she  not 
gone  there  at  once?  For  no  reason  except  the 
hope  in  her  heart  that  it  might  not  have  been 
him  who  had  been  shot — that  she  might  find 
him  at  the  house.  But  he  was  not  there !  Then 
it  must  have  been  he;  his  groans  she  had 
heard — that  still  sounded  in  her  ears.  He  had 
brown  hair  that  waved  softly  from  a  brow 
broad  and  white.  His  face  was  boyish  and 
sad  in  repose.  She  could  see  it  now  as  she  had 
seen  it  by  the  spring,  and  his  eyes  were  gray 
and  tender.  She  had  noticed  them  this  day. 
What  was  she  doing  there  by  the  window? 
Perhaps  after  all  he  was  not  dead,  but  suffer- 
ing terribly  while  she  lingered  I 

She  rose  quickly  with  new  courage.  As  she 
turned  a  hand  touched  her  on  the  shoulder, 
and  she  fell  back  weak  against  the  house. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!  I  did  not  know — 
could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was  you — Miss 
— Hathaway!  Won't  you  come  into  the 
house?'* 


80  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

^'You!"  she  cried  as  in  a  dream.  ''Where 
have  you  been?" 

His  tone,  quiet,  polite,  hid  the  surprise  that 
her  question  caused. 

"I've  been  back  there  in  the  hills  hunting 
chickens.  You  see  I  have  been  fortunate 
enough  to  get  some.  I  followed  them  a  great 
distance,  and  night  overtook  me  up  there  so 
suddenly  that  I've  had  some  difficulty  in  find- 
ing my  way  back.  Now  may  I  ask  to  what  I 
owe  the  honor  of  this — ^visit?" 

All  fear  and  weakness  had  gone.  She 
stood  erect  before  him,  her  head  thrown  back 
from  her  shoulders,  her  position,  as  it  must 
appear  to  him,  driving  all  else  from  her 
mind. 

"  In  other  words,  you  want  to  know  why  I 
was  peeking  into  your  window  at  this  time  of 
the  day!" 

"  Just  so,  if  you  put  it  that  way.  At  least 
I  should  be  pleased  to  know  the  nature  of 
your  visit."  He  threw  the  prairie  chickens 
down  beside  the  house,  watching  meanwhile 
the  girl's  erect  figure.     The  soft,  quiet  grace 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  81 

he  had  seen  at  the  spring  had  given  place  to 
something  different — greater. 

"Not  a  very  dignified  position  in  which  to 
be  caught — and  I  do  not  hke  you  any  better 
for  having  caught  me  so!"  she  finally  flashed 
back  at  him.  "I  have  no  apologies  to  offer 
you,  and  wouldn't  offer  one,  anyway — ^under 
the  circumstances.  I'll  tell  you  what  brought 
me  here,  though.  While  passing  by  your  cor- 
ral, down  the  road,  I  heard  a  great  commotion, 
and  some  shooting,  so  I  came  over  here  to  tell 
you.  Perhaps  I  was  afraid  to  pass  the  corral 
after  that."  She  smiled  wickedly,  but  he,  in- 
nocently believing,  exclaimed: 

"Why  were  you  alone?  Where  were  the 
boys  that  I  saw  with  you  this  morning?  It 
isn't  right  that  you  should  be  out  alone  after 
night  like  this." 

"They  went  on — ahead  of  me.  I  rode 
slowly,"  she  replied  hesitatingly.  He  did  not 
notice  her  nervous  manner  of  speech. 

"  They  ought  to  have  stayed  with  you,"  he 
declared.  "  You  should  never  ride  alone,  par- 
ticularly after  dark.    Don't  do  it  again." 


82  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"But  the  shooting,"  she  interrupted.  "I 
came  to  tell  you  about  it.  Someone  may  have 
been  hurt." 

"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come.  There  may 
be  trouble  of  some  sort.  I  heard  shooting,  too, 
but  thought  it  must  be  down  at  Harris.'  There 
is  very  often  a  commotion  do^vn  there,  and 
sometimes  the  air  carries  sound  very  clearly. 
You  are  sure  it  was  at  the  corrals? " 

She  became  impatient.  "Positively!  I 
not  only  heard  the  shots  plainly,  but  saw  men 
ride  away.  Please  lose  no  more  time,  but  get 
your  men  and  a  lantern,  and  come  on.  There's 
evidently  been  trouble  down  there,  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston, and  your  herder  may  have  been  hurt, 
They  are  not  all  good  people  in  these  moun- 
tains, by  any  means." 

"  Is  that  so?  I  had  not  discovered  it.  Prob- 
ably some  of  them  thought  they  would  like 
mutton  for  their  Sunday  dinner.  It  seemed 
to  me  there  was  considerable  firing,  though. 
You  are  perfectly  sure  it  was  at  the  corrals? " 

"That  was  my  impression,  Mr.  Living- 
ston," she  replied  briefly. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  83 

His  face  suddenly  became  anxious.  "  They 
may  have  hurt  Fritz.  If  anything  has  hap- 
pened to  that  boy  there  will  be  something  to 
pay!  But  unless  something  occurred  to  de- 
lay the  sheep  they  should  have  been  put  in 
before  dark.  I  will  go  at  once.  Will  you 
come  in  the  house  and  stay  until  my  return? 
It  might  not  be  safe  for  a  lady  down  there." 

"No!"  Then,  less  fiercely:  "Have  your 
men  bring  their  guns  and  hurry  up  I  I'm  go- 
ing along  with  you;"  adding:  "It's  on  my 
way  back." 

She  waited  outside  while  Livingston  in- 
formed his  men,  who  secured  rifles,  and  started 
at  once  for  the  corrals;  then  leading  her  horse 
she  walked  on  ahead  with  him,  followed  closely 
by  the  two  men,  who  carried  lanterns,  which 
they  decided  not  to  light  until  they  reached 
the  sheep. 

Hope  never  could  define  her  feelings  when 
she  found  Livingston  safe  and  unhurt,  though 
she  made  a  careless  attempt  at  doing  so  that 
night,  and  afterwards.  She  walked  beside 
him  in  absolute  silence.    They  were  going  to 


84  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

see  if  the  herder  had  been  injured  in  any  way. 
She  knew  that  he  was  not  only  hurt,  but  in  all 
likelihood  fatally  so.  His  groans  rang  con- 
tinually in  her  ears,  yet  it  brought  her  not  the 
least  pain,  only  a  horror,  such  as  she  had  ex- 
perienced when  it  happened.  It  was  a  relief 
to  her  that  it  had  not  been  Livingston.  She 
felt  sorry,  naturally,  that  a  man  had  been 
shot,  but  what  did  it  matter  to  her — one  man 
more  or  less?     She  had  never  known  him. 

When  they  reached  the  sheep-corrals  the 
moon  still  shone  brightly,  and  Hope  was  filled 
with  a  new  fear  lest  some  of  the  ruffians  had 
remained  behind,  and  would  pick  off  Living- 
ston. After  the  lanterns  were  lighted  she  felt 
still  more  nervous  for  his  safety,  and  could  not 
restrain  her  foolish  concern  until  she  had 
mounted  her  horse,  and  made  a  complete  cir- 
cuit of  the  corrals,  riding  into  every  patch  of 
brush  about ;  then  only  did  this  fear,  which  was 
such  a  stranger  to  her,  depart.  She  rode  in 
haste  back  to  the  corrals,  satisfied  that  the  men 
had  all  left,  probably  badly  frightened. 

To  one  side  of  the  paneled  enclosure  the 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  85 

men  held  their  lanterns  over  an  inert  figure 
stretched  upon  the  ground.  Livingston  was 
kneehng  beside  it.  The  girl  got  down  from 
her  horse,  and  came  near  them. 

"Is  he  dead?"  she  asked. 

"Dead — yes!  The  poor  boy!  May  God 
have  mercy  on  the  brute  who  committed  this 
crime!  It  is  terrible — terrible!  Poor  faith- 
ful Fritz!  Scarcely  more  than  a  boy,  yet 
possessing  a  man's  courage  and  a  man's 
heart ! "  He  looked  up  at  the  girl's  face,  and 
was  amazed  at  her  indifference.  Then  he 
spoke  to  the  men :  "  Go  back  and  get  a  wagon 
and  my  saddle  horse.  I  will  stay  here  until 
you  return.     Leave  one  of  the  lanterns." 

They  hurried  away,  while  the  man  continued 
to  kneel  by  the  side  of  the  dead  herder.  Hope 
watched  him,  wondering  at  his  depth  of  feel- 
ing. Finally  she  asked :  "  Was  he  some  rela- 
tive of  yours?" 

"No,  only  one  of  my  herders — Fritz,  a 
bright,  good  German  boy.  Why  did  you 
ask.  Miss  Hathaway?" 

"I  thought  because  you  cared  so  much, — 


86  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

seemed  to  feel  so  badly, — that  he  must  be  very 
near  to  you." 

"  He  is  near  to  me,"  he  replied,  "  only  as  all 
children  of  earth  should  be  near  to  one  another. 
Are  you  not  also  pained  at  this  sight — this 
boy,  in  the  very  beginning  of  his  manhood, 
lying  here  dead?" 

"  Not  pained — I  can't  truthfully  say  that  I 
am  pained — or  care  much  in  that  way.  He  is 
dead,  so  what  is  the  use  of  caring  or  worrying 
about  it.  That  cannot  bring  him  back  to  life 
again.  Of  course  I  would  rather  he  had 
lived — that  this  had  never  happened,  yet  I  do 
not  feel  pain,  only  an  abhorrence.  I  couldn't 
touch  him  as  you  are  doing, not  for  anything! " 

"  And  you  are  not  pained  I  You,  a  woman 
with  a  white  soul  and  a  clean  heart — one  of 
God's  choicest  creations — you  stand  there 
without  a  pang  of  sorrow — dry-eyed. 
Haven't  you  a  heart,  girl?"  He  rose  to  his 
feet,  holding  up  the  lantern  until  it  shone 
squarely  in  her  face.  "Look  at  him  lying 
there  I  See  the  blood  upon  his  clothes — the 
look  on  his  face!     What  he  suffered!     See 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  87 

what  he  holds  so  tightly  in  his  hand, — ^his  last 
thought, — a  letter  from  his  sweetheart  over  in 
Germany,  the  girl  he  was  to  have  married,  who 
is  even  now  on  her  way  to  him.  He  had  been 
reading  her  letter  all  day.  It  came  this  morn- 
ing, and  he  held  it  in  his  hand  planning  their 
future  with  a  happy  heart,  when  some  brute 
sent  a  bullet  here.  If  it  could  have  been  me, 
how  gladly  I  would  make  the  exchange,  for  I 
have  nothing  that  this  poor  boy  possessed — 
mother,  sweetheart — no  one.  Yet  you,  a  girl, 
can  see  him  so,  unmoved!  Good  God,  what 
are  you,  stone?  See  his  face,  he  did  not  die  at 
once,  and  suffering,  dying,  still  held  that 
letter.  If  not  his  story,  then  does  not  his  suf- 
fering appeal  to  you?  His  dying  groans, 
can  you  not  hear  them? " 

"Stop I"  she  cried,  backing  away  from  him 
until  she  leaned  against  her  horse  for  support. 
"Stop!     How  dare  you  talk  like  that  to  mel 

His  groans "     She  sobbed  wildly,  her  face 

buried  in  her  saddle,  which  she  clutched. 

He  came  close  beside  her,  touching  her 
lightly,  wondering.     "I  am  so  sorry,  forgive 


88  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

me  I  I  did  not  realize  what  I  was  doing.  I 
did  not  wish  to  frighten  you,  believe  me!" 

The  sobs  were  hushed  instantly.  She  raised 
her  head,  and  looked  at  him,  still  dry-eyed. 

"You  were  right,"  she  said.  "I  do  not 
even  now  feel  for  him — perhaps  some  for  the 
little  girl  now  on  her  way  to  him;  but  it  is  all 
unreal.  I  have  seen  men  dead  like  this  before, 
and  I  could  not  feel  anything  but  horror — 
no  sorrow.  I  am  as  I  am.  It  makes  no  dif- 
ference what  you  say, — what  anyone  says, — I 
cannot  change.  I  am  not  tender — only  please 
do  not  terrify  me  again! " 

"I  was  a  brute!"  he  exclaimed,  then  left 
her  and  returned  to  the  dead  man's  side. 

The  girl  stood  for  some  time  quietly  beside 
her  horse,  then  began  to  loosen  the  cinch. 
Livingston  watched  her  wonderingly  as  she 
drew  out  the  blanket,  and  secured  the  saddle 
once  more  into  place.  He  did  not  realize  her 
motive  until  she  stood  beside  him,  holding  in 
her  hand  the  gayly  colored  saddle  blanket. 
Kneeling  opposite  him,  beside  the  body  of  the 
boy,  she  tenderly  lifted  the  long  hair  from  his 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  89 

forehead,  spread  over  his  face  a  white  hand- 
kerchief, then  stood  up  and  unfolded  the 
blanket,  covering  the  rigid  form  with  it. 

"You  have  a  heart!"  exclaimed  Livingston 
softly.  "You  are  thinking  of  him  tenderly, 
as  a  sister  might,  and  of  his  sweetheart  coming 
over  the  water  to  him! " 

"  No,  not  of  that  at  all,"  said  the  girl  simply, 
"nor  of  him,  as  you  think;  but  of  one  who 
might  be  lying  here  in  his  place — one  who  has 
no  sweetheart,  near  or  far  away,  to  cover  him 
with  the  mantle  of  her  love." 


CHAPTER  VII 

SHE  stood  up,  listening.  From  the  dis- 
tance came  the  low  rumble  of  a  wagon. 
The  men  were  returning.  For  some 
time  she  kept  her  face  from  him,  in  attitude 
intent  upon  the  distant  rumble.  She  was 
thinking  hard.  She  could  not  be  rude  to  Liv- 
ingston, she  could  not  very  well  explain,  yet 
she  dared  not  allow  him  to  accompany  her 
back  to  Harris'  ranch.  What  should  she  do? 
Naturally  he  would  insist,  yet  how  could  she 
tell  him  that  she  feared  for  his  safety?  That 
would  sound  idiotic  without  a  complete  expla- 
nation, for  she  was  almost  a  total  stranger  to 
him.  She  was  concerned,  that  was  the  worst 
of  it;  but  not  without  reason.  To-night  the 
men  were  in  a  fever  of  revenge.  If  he  were 
seen  that  would  settle  it.  To-morrow  not 
one  of  them  but  would  hesitate  a  long  time  be- 
fore committing  such  a  crime;  so,  she  argued, 

90 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  91 

she  had  a  right  to  be  concerned.  But,  after  all, 
how  foolish  of  her  I  Surely  he  was  not  a  baby 
that  he  could  not  protect  himself!  Did  she 
expect  to  worry  about  him  during  the  whole 
summer?  As  she  stood  there  gazing  into  the 
darkness,  he  watched  her,  speechless,  some- 
thing that  was  not  sorrow  piercing  his  heart 
with  a  greater  pain.  In  her  moment  of  ten- 
derness she  had  become  to  him  a  woman  divine. 
He  not  only  loved  her,  and  knew  it,  but  felt 
the  hopelessness  of  ever  winning  her.  It  was 
not  exactly  new,  only  revealed  to  him,  for  it 
had  come  upon  him  gradually  since  the 
evening  that  she  had  given  him  the  water  at 
the  spring.  He  had  cursed  himself  that 
night  for  thinking  of  an  Indian  girl,  he,  a  man 
with  a  name  to  sustain — a  name  which 
counted  little  in  this  new  country  of  the  West, 
He  tried  to  imagine  her  as  married  to  Carter. 
The  thought  sickened  him.  Carter  might  be 
all  right, — ^he  had  met  him  when  he  first  came 
into  the  country;  he  undoubtedly  was  all 
right, — ^but  married  to  this  girl  I  As  he 
thought,  bitterly,  forgetting  even  the  dead 


92  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

young  German  at  his  feet,  Hope  was  alter- 
nately calling  herself  a  fool  and  wondering 
what  she  could  do  to  prevent  him  from  taking 
her  home.  But  her  fertile  brain  could  not 
solve  it.  She  turned  toward  him  with  manner 
constrained  and  frigid.  It  was  shyness, 
nothing  less,  yet  it  afFecte3  him  unpleasantly. 

"The  wagon  is  coming."  Relief  sounded 
in  her  tone,  giving  the  lie  to  her  moment  of 
tenderness.  "You  can  hear  it  quite  plainly, 
These  corrals  should  not  be  so  far  from  the 
house.  It  must  be  nearly  a  mile.  I  suppose 
you've  not  been  in  the  business  very  long  or 
you  wouldn't  have  put  it  here,  on  the  edge  of 
this  cut-bank." 

"You  are  right.  Miss  Hathaway,  I  have 
not  been  long  in  the  business  nor  in  your 
country.  This  is  quite  new  to  me.  Any 
place  seemed  good  enough  for  a  corral,  to  my 
ignorant  mind.  Are  you  interested  in  the 
sheep  industry?"  He  spoke  pleasantly.  She 
threw  back  her  head  as  she  always  did  when 
angered  or  excited, 

"Interested  in  the  sheep  industry?    Well, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  93 

I  should  say  not  I  It  never  occurred  to  me 
before  as  an  industry,  only  as  a  nuisance.  I 
hate  sheep.  They  ruin  our  range.  One  band 
can  eat  off  miles  and  miles  in  a  season,  and 
spoil  all  the  water  in  the  country.  I  would  go 
miles  out  of  my  way  to  avoid  a  band  of 
them." 

He  began  slowly  to  comprehend.  "Your 
people  have  cattle,  I  understand.  Every- 
one up  here  seems  to  have  cattle,  too.  I  have 
heard  that  a  strong  feeling  of  antagonism 
existed  between  sheep  and  cattle  owners,  but 
thought  nothing  about  it.  I  see  that  the  feel- 
ing is  not  confined  to  the  men  only.  Does 
that  explain  this — outrage  here  to-night?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly  and 
turned  away. 

"You  can  draw  your  own  conclusions. 
Why  do  you  ask  me?  I  am  neither  a  cattle- 
man nor  a  sheep-man,  yet  I  could  advise  that 
you  look  about  the  place  and  see,  if  you  can, 
what  is  meant  by  it  all — what  damage  has 
been  done.  The  wagon  is  still  some  distance 
away."     Her  shyness  was  fast  disappearing. 


94  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

The  ground  she  trod  now  was  her  own.  He 
smiled  down  at  her,  finding  her  more  natural, 
more  prepossessing  in  that  mood, 

"  I  should  have  thought  of  that  myself  be- 
fore this.  After  what  you  have  told  me  of 
your  dislike  for  the  animals,  I  can  hardly  ask 
you  to  go  with  me,  but  I  do  not  like  to  leave 
you  here  alone  in  the  dark,  for  I  must  take  the 
lantern ;  however,  I  can  wait  until  the  men  get 
here." 

"You  don't  need  to  wait  at  all,"  she  said 
quickly.  "  I'll  go  with  you,  for  I  am  curious 
to  see  what  has  been  done — ^the  cause  of  all 
this." 

"  Then  come  on,"  said  the  man  briefly,  turn- 
ing toward  the  corral.  She  kept  near  him. 
her  eyes  following  the  bright  rays  of  the 
lantern  that  swung  in  his  hand.  She  feared 
that  the  boys  had  aimed  too  low,  and  was 
nervously  anxious  to  see  just  what  mischief 
had  been  done.  Almost  anything,  she 
thought,  would  have  been  better  than  per- 
mitting those  thousands  of  sheep  to  be  piled 
up  at  the  bottom  of  the  cut-bank  and  the 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  95 

brutes  of  men  to  ride  away  satisfied  with  their 
dirty  work. 

Livingston  examined  the  sheep  while  Hope, 
with  a  glance  here  and  there  about  the  en- 
closure, went  to  one  side  and  looked  at  the 
panels  carefully,  discovering  many  bullet 
holes  which  told  that  her  brave  scouts,  more 
bloodthristy  than  she  suspected,  had  aimed 
too  low. 

"  I  think  this  one  is  dead,"  said  Livingston, 
dragging  out  a  sheep  from  the  midst  of  a 
number  huddled  in  one  corner.  "Judging 
from  the  blood,  I  should  say  it  is  shot.  A  few 
are  piled  up  over  there  from  fright,  but  so 
many  are  sleeping  that  it  will  be  impossible  to 
determine  the  loss  until  morning.  The  loss  is 
small;  probably  a  hundred  piled  up  and  hurt, 
not  more,  from  the  looks  of  the  band.  I  heard 
considerable  firing,  which  lasted  about  a 
minute.  I  wonder  if  my  friends  about  here 
thought  they  could  kill  off  a  band  of  sheep  so 
easily." 

Hope  had  not  been  searching  for  sheep,  but 
for  dead  or  wounded  men,  and  finding  none 


96  HOPE    HATHAWAY 

breathed  easier.  She  thought  of  the  man 
whose  hand  she  had  marked  and  who  fell  in 
such  a  panic  among  the  sheep.  It  struck  her 
as  being  a  very  funny  incident,  and  laughed  a 
little.  Livingston  heard  the  laugh  and  looked 
around  in  wonderment.  He  could  see  nothing 
amusing.  This  Western  girl  was  totally  dif- 
ferent from  any  girl  that  he  had  known,  Eng- 
lish or  American.  She  must  possess  a  sense  of 
humor  out  of  all  proportion  with  an)i;hing  of 
his  conception.  He  thought  a  few  minutes 
before  that  he  loved  her,  but  she  seemed  far  re- 
moved now — an  absolute  stranger.  The  boy- 
ish laugh  annoyed  him.  His  manner  as  he 
turned  to  her  was  quite  as  formally  polite  as 
ever  her  own  had  been.  She  resented  it,  nat- 
urally. 

"Step  outside,  please,  until  I  drive  in  the 
ones  near  the  gate,  so  that  I  may  close  it." 

Instinctively  she  obeyed,  with  a  defiant  look 
which  was  lost  in  the  dimness  of  the  night,  and 
hurrying  past  him  never  stopped  until  she 
drew  back  with  a  shudder  at  the  blanket- 
covered  form  of  the  dead  herder.    A  deep  roar 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  97 

of  thunder  startled  her  into  a  half -suppressed 
scream.  In  the  lantern's  light  she  had  not 
noticed  the  steadily  increasing  darkness,  or  the 
flashes  of  lightning.  She  felt  herself  shaking 
with  a  nervous  excitement  which  was  half 
fear. 

Thunderstorms  often  made  her  nervous,  yet 
she  would  not  have  acknowledged  that  she 
feared  them,  or  any  other  thing.  But  her 
nervousness  was  only  the  culmination  of  the 
night,  every  moment  of  which  had  been  a 
strain  upon  her.  Another  peal  of  thunder  fol- 
lowed the  first,  fairly  weakening  her.  She  ran 
to  her  horse  and,  mounting,  rode  up  near  the 
corral.  At  the  same  instant  the  wagon  came 
up,  and  Livingston,  having  placed  the  panel 
in  position,  turned  toward  it.  He  was  close  be- 
side the  girl  before  he  saw  her,  and  she,  for  an 
instant  at  a  loss,  sat  there  speechless ;  but  as  he 
held  up  the  lantern,  looking  at  her  by  its  light, 
she  blurted  out,  in  a  tone  that  she  had  little  in- 
tention of  using:  "I'm  going.  Hope  you 
will  get  along  all  right.    Good-night." 

"Wait I"  he  exclaimed.  "I  will  accompany 


98  HOPE     HATHAWAYi 

you.  My  horse  is  here  now.  Just  a  mo- 
ment  " 

"  You  don't  need  to  go  with  me.  Someone 
is  waiting  for  me  down  there.  I  think  I  hear 
a  whistle.'* 

"  Then  I  will  go  along  with  you  until  you 
meet  the  person  whose  whistle  you  hear.  You 
do  not  imagine  that  I  will  allow  you  to  go 
alone?" 

She  leaned  toward  him  impulsively,  placing 
her  hand  down  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Listen,"  she  said  softly,  "I  heard  no 
whistle.  There  is  no  one  waiting  for  me.  A 
moment  ago  it  seemed  easy  to  lie  to  you,  to 
make  you  believe  things  that  were  not  abso- 
lutely true,  but  I  can't  do  it  now,  nor  again — 
ever.  You  think  I  am  heartless,  a  creature  of 
stone — ^indifferent.  It  isn't  so.  My  heart  has 
held  a  little  place  for  aching  all  these  years. 
Think  of  me  as  half-witted, — idiotic, — ^but  not 
that.  Listen  to  me.  You  have  such  a  heart — 
such  tenderness — ^you  are  good  and  kind. 
You  will  understand  me — or  try  to,  and  not 
be  offended.    I  want  to  go  home  by  myself.    I 


HOPE    HATHAWAY  99 

must  go  back  alone.  There  is  a  reason  which  I 
will  tell  you — sometime.  I  ask  as  a  favor — as 
a  friend  to  a  friend,  that  you  will  stay  behind." 

"  But  are  you  not  afraid?  " 

She  interrupted  him.  "Afraid?  Not  II 
Why,  I  was  born  here,  and  am  a  part  of  it, 
and  it  of  me !  Ask  your  men  there,  they  know. 
I  want  to  ride  like  the  wind — alone — ahead  of 
the  storm,  to  get  there  soon.  I  am  tired." 
Her  low,  quick  speech  bewildered  him.  Her 
words  were  too  inconsistent,  too  hurried,  to 
convey  any  real  meaning. 

"Will  you  ride  with  one  of  my  men?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  why  canH  you  let  me  do  as  I 
wish!"  she  cried  impatiently.  "I  want  to  go 
alone." 

"It  seems  quite  evident  that  you  do  not 
want  my  company,  but  one  of  the  men  must  go 
and  take  a  lantern.  It's  too  dark  to  see  the 
road."    His  tone  was  decisive. 

She  leaned  toward  him  again.  This  time 
her  words  fell  harshly. 

"  You  are  a  man  of  your  word?  " 


100         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"I  hope  so;  but  that  is  not  the  issue  just 


now. 


"  Then  promise  you  will  not  go  with  me  to- 
night." 

"  No  need  of  that.  I  have  decided  to  send 
one  of  my  men — and  I  think/'  he  added 
briefly,  "  that  there  is  no  necessity  of  prolong- 
ing this  conversation.    Good-evening." 

"Then  you  will  not  come!"  she  exclaimed, 
relieved.  "And  never  mind  telling  your  man, 
for  I  shall  ride  like  the  wind,  and  will  be  half- 
way home  before  he  can  get  on  his  horse."  She 
turned  like  a  flash.  The  quick  beats  of  her 
horse's  hoofs  echoed  back  until  the  sound  was 
lost  in  the  distance. 

Livingston  stood  silent,  listening,  until  he 
could  no  longer  hear  the  dull  notes  on  the  dry 
earth — ^his  thoughts  perturbed  as  the  night. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CAPTAIN  BILL  HENRY,  foreman 
of  the  Bar  O  outfit,  and  head  by  choice 
of  the  season's  round  up,  had  just  rid- 
den into  camp.  Most  of  the  men  were  in  the 
cook-tent  when  he  turned  his  dripping  bay  horse 
in  with  the  others.  Then  he  picked  up  his  sad- 
dle, bridle,  and  blanket  and  carried  them  up  to 
the  cook-tent,  where  he  threw  them  down,  hit- 
ting one  of  the  stake-ropes  with  such  violence 
as  to  cause  the  whole  tent  to  quiver,  and  one  of 
the  boys  inside  to  mutter  under  his  breath: 
"  Lord,  the  Cap's  on  the  prod !  What  in  the 
devil's  he  got  in  his  gizzard  now? " 

"  Don't  know,"  answered  the  second,  return- 
ing from  the  stove,  where  he  had  loaded  his 
plate  with  a  wonderful  assortment  of  eatables 
and  seated  himself  on  a  roll  of  bedding  beside 
the  first  speaker.  "  Too  bad  he  couldn't  knock 
the  roof  ofF'n  our  heads.     He's  sure  enough 

101 


102         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

mad,  just  look  at  him! "  he  whispered,  as  Cap- 
tain Bill  Henry  stooped  his  tall,  lank  frame  to 
come  into  the  tent. 

The  men,  sitting  about  inside,  glanced  up 
when  he  entered.  Some  of  them  grinned, 
others  went  on  with  their  supper,  but  the 
"Cap"  from  under  his  bushy  red  eyebrows 
hardly  noticed  them  as  he  took  the  necessary 
dishes  from  the  mess-box  and  strode  over  to 
the  stove,  around  which  old  Evans,  the  cook, 
moved  in  great  concern. 

"Now  just  try  some  o'  them  beans. 
Regular  Boston  baked.  Cap,  they'll  melt  in 
your  mouth.  An'  here's  a  kidney  stew  I've 
been  savin'  fer  you,"  taking  from  the  oven  a 
well  concealed  stew-pan.  "If  any  o'  them 
boys  'ud  a  found  it  they'd  made  short  work  of 
it,  I  reckon." 

He  removed  the  cover  and  held  the  dish 
under  Bill  Henry's  nose.  The  "Cap"  gave 
one  sniff.  "Phew!  Take  it  away!  Don't 
like  the  damn'd  stuff,  nohow!" 

A  dazed  look  passed  over  old  Evans'  face, 
giving  way  to  one  of  mortal  injury.     Not  a 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         103 

man  smiled,  though  several  seemed  about  to 
collapse  with  a  sudden  spasm  which  they  tried 
in  vain  to  control.  Away  went  the  contents 
of  the  pan,  leaving  a  streak  of  kidney-stew 
almost  down  to  the  horse  ropes.  "  If  it  ain't 
good  enough  fer  you,  it  ain't  fer  me,"  said  the 
cook,  his  bald  head  thrown  well  back  upon  thin 
shoulders. 

The  "  Cap  "  glared  at  him  as  he  poured  out 
a  generous  measure  of  strong  coffee  into  a 
large  tin  cup,  then  ran  his  eye  about  the  tent 
for  a  possible  seat. 

A  quiet-looking  fellow,  a  youth  fresh  from 
the  East,  got  up,  politely  offering  him  the 
case  of  tomatoes  upon  which  he  had  been  sit- 
ting. Bill  Henry  refused  it  with  a  scowl,  tak- 
ing a  seat  upon  the  ground  near  the  front  of 
the  tent,  where  he  crossed  his  lank  legs  in  front 
of  him.  The  cow-puncher  sank  back  upon  his 
case  of  tomatoes  while  the  "  Cap  "  ate  in  great, 
hungry  mouthfuls,  soaking  his  bread  in  the 
sloppy  beans  and  washing  it  down  with  fre- 
quent noisy  sips  of  hot  coffee.  Finally  he  be- 
gan to  speak,  with  a  full  Missouri  twang: 


104         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  This  beats  hell  1  Not  a  dang  man  around 
this  part  of  the  country  wants  to  throw  in  with 
this  here  outfit.  Never  saw  no  such  luck !  Here 
we  are  with  two  months' steady  work  before  we 
make  town,  an'  only  ten  men  to  do  the  work  o' 
fifteen!  I'll  hire  no  more  devilish  breeds.  You 
can't  trust  'em  no  more'n  you  can  a  rattler,  no, 
sir!  All  of  'em  quit  last  night,  an'  Long  Bill 
along  with  'em!  I'd  never  thought  it  o'  Bill. 
Been  ridin'  all  the  evenin'  an'  couldn't  find 
hair  or  hide  of  him.  It's  enough  to  make  a 
man  swear  a  blue  streak,  yes,  sir!  Well,  I 
rounded  up  one  breed  limpin'  'round  Har- 
ris' shack,  an'  he  said  his  gun  went  off  by  ac- 
cident an'  give  him  a  scratch  on  the  calf  o'  the 
leg.  Bet  ten  dollars  he's  been  in  a  fight  over 
there!  Damn'd  nest  o'  drunken  louts!  I'll 
be  glad  when  we're  away  from  these  here 
parts ! " 

At  this  point  one  of  the  cowboys  got  up, 
threw  his  dishes  into  the  pan,  and  strode  out- 
side. 

"You  on  night-herd  to-night?"  asked  the 
Captain. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         105 

"Yep,"  answered  the  cow-puncher.  "Go- 
ing to  relieve  Jack." 

"Tell  them  other  fellers  to  come  along  in 
an'  git  their  chuck;  it's  mighty  nigh  time  to 
turn  in  now.  Got  to  make  Miller's  crossing  in 
the  morning." 

"  All  right,"  answered  the  man  from  outside. 
Then  putting  his  head  back  into  the  tent,  ex- 
claimed in  a  loud  whisper:  "Here  comes 
Long  Bill!" 

"  The  devil  he  is!  It's  about  time,"  growled 
Bill  Henry.  He  had  no  more  than  got  the 
words  out  of  his  mouth  before  a  man,  head  and 
shoulders  above  any  cow-puncher  there, 
stalked  in. 

"  Well,  Cap,  I've  come  round  to  git  paid  off, 
f  er  I  reckon  I'm  knocked  out  of  the  ring  f  er  a 
little  spell."  He  stooped  and  held  down  for 
inspection  a  hand  bandaged  in  a  much-stained 
bandanna  handkerchief.  "  One  o'  them  damn'd 
dogs  o'  Harris'  run  his  teeth  all  the  way 
through  it,"  he  explained. 

The  captain  grunted,  threw  his  well  cleaned 
plate  over  into  the  dish  pan,  and  rose  stiffly  to 


106         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

his  feet.  "What'd  you  do  to  the  dog?"  he 
asked. 

"  That  was  his  last  bite,"  roared  out  Long 
Bill.    "  I  sent  him  flyin'  into  Kingdom  Come ! " 

"Let's  see  your  hand,"  demanded  his  chief; 
thereupon  the  tall  cowboy  hesitated  an  in- 
stant, then  removed  the  bandage,  and,  with  an 
air  of  bravado,  held  out  his  hand  for  inspection. 
Some  of  the  men  crowded  about  curiously, 
throwing  careless  jokes  of  condolement  at  the 
sufferer,  while  others  passed  by  regardless. 

Captain  Bill  Henry  examined  the  wounded 
member  carefully,  then  grunted  again,  while 
his  eyelids  contracted  until  only  a  sparkle  of 
liquid  blue  showed  beneath  his  bushy  red  brows. 

"A  mighty  bad  bite !  You'll  have  a  hell  of  a 
time  with  that  hand!  What  were  yo'  tryin'  to 
do,  anyhow — makin'  a  mark  out  o'  it?  Was 
you  holdin'  your  hand  up,  or  down,  or  what? 
That  dog  must  'a'  had  a  pretty  good  eye.  Do 
you  know  what  that  looks  like  to  me?  Well, 
sir,  it  looks  mighty  like  you'd  held  up  your 
hand  to  the  muzzle  of  your  gun  an'  pulled  the 
trigger!    Yes,  sir,  only  there  ain't  no  powder 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         107 

marks;  so  I  calculate  the  dog  must  'a'  been 
some  distance  away  when  he  took  aim!  The 
hole's  clean  through,  just  as  sHck  as  any  bullet 
could  'a'  made  it.  That  dog  must  'a'  had  a 
powerful  sharp  tooth!  Well,  you  ain't  goin' 
to  be  able  to  handle  a  rope  very  soon,  dog  or  no 
dog,  that's  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face. 
You'd  make  a  mighty  good  ornament  to  have 
around  camp,  but  I  reckon  I'll  pay  you  off." 
Later:  "  Know  of  any  men  I  can  git  around 
here?" 

"Nary  one  but  them  breeds  over  to 
Harris',"  replied  Long  Bill.  "They're 
drunker'n  lords  now,  but  they'll  be  wantin'  a 
job  in  a  day  or  so  when  they  sober  up,  an'  I'll 
send  'em  'round  here.  I'll  be  huntin'  a  job  my- 
self in  about  a  month,  when  this  here  paw  o' 
mine  gits  well.    It's  mighty  painful." 

"  You'd  better  go  to  town  an'  see  a  doctor," 
drawled  the  "Cap."  "An'  while  you're  on 
your  way  stop  at  Hathaway's  an'  give  him  or 
Jim  McCullen  a  letter  fer  me.  I'll  have  it 
ready  in  a  minute  an'  it'll  save  me  sendin'  a 
man  over." 


108         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  from  the  tall 
cow-puncher,  Captain  Bill  Henry  stalked  over 
to  his  bed,  took  from  the  roll  a  pad  of  paper, 
and  was  soon  lost  in  the  mysteries  of  letter- 
writing. 

He  was  an  awkwardly  built  man,  but  his 
whole  appearance  gave  one  the  impression  that 
he  meant  business — and  he  was  crammed  full 
of  it.  Seated  astride  his  tarp-covered  bed, 
with  his  back  to  the  few  straggling  cow- 
punchers  about  the  tents,  he  proceeded  in  a 
determined,  business-like  way  to  write  the  let- 
ter. Before  he  had  finished  the  difficult  opera- 
tion some  men  rode  up  to  the  camp — the  men 
who  had  been  on  herd,  hungry  for  their  sup- 
per, and  two  outsiders. 

Around  the  mess-wagon,  which  had  been 
backed  into  the  cook-tent  in  the  usual  order, 
lounged  a  group  of  cowboys  whose  appetites 
had  been  satisfied  and  whose  duties  for  the 
time  being  were  over.  Two  of  the  men  who 
had  just  come  up  on  horseback  joined  these, 
while  Captain  Bill  Henry,  without  looking 
around,  continued  his  somewhat  difficult  task 


\f 


Old  Jim  McCullen.' 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         109 

of  composing  a  letter,  which,  when  accom- 
plished, he  folded  carefully. 

"Hello!  Where  did  you'ns  drop  from?" 
he  drawled  as  he  approached  the  newcomers. 
"I  was  just  goin'  to  send  word  over  to  have 
your  wagon  join  me  at  west  fork  o'  Stony 
Creek.  I'm  too  short  o'  men  to  work  Stony 
Creek  country,  anyhow.  Hathaway's  reps  all 
left  me  awhile  back,  an'  Long  Bill,  he's  leavin' 
to-day — got  bit  by  a  mad  dog  over  here.  Jack- 
son's wagon  an'  the  U  Bar  ain't  goin'  to  join 
me  till  we  git  down  in  the  Lonesome  Prairie 
country,  so  I  was  just  goin'  to  send  a  letter  over 
to  your  place,  for  if  he  wants  a  good  round-up 
on  this  range  he'd  better  send  over  that  extra 
wagon  o'  his'n.     You'ns  goin'  right  back? " 

"I'm  not,"  replied  Carter.  "But  McCuUen 
can  take  word  over  to  the  ranch.  He's  going 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"  Cert.  Got  to  go,  anyway,  an'  I  reckon  my 
horse  can  pack  your  message  to  the  boss  if  it 
ain't  too  heavy,"  said  McCullen. 

Old  Jim  McCullen  had  been  Hathaway's 
right  hand  man  as  long  as  anyone  could  re- 


110         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

member.  He  had  put  in  many  years  as  wagon- 
boss,  and  finally  retired  from  active  life  to  the 
quieter  one  at  the  home-ranch,  where  he  drew 
the  biggest  pay  of  any  man  in  Hathaway^s 
employ,  and  practically  managed  all  the  de- 
tails of  the  great  cattle  concern.  He  saw  that 
the  wagons  were  properly  provisioned, 
manned,  and  started  out  in  the  spring,  that  the 
men  who  brought  up  the  trail-herds  were  paid 
off;  he  attended  to  the  haying,  the  small  irri- 
gating plant  that  had  been  started,  and  to  all 
the  innumerable  details  that  go  toward  the 
smooth  running  of  a  large  ranch.  Now  the 
"  boss  "  had  sent  him  on  a  mission  whose  import 
he  understood  perfectly — something  altogether 
out  of  the  line  of  his  usual  duties,  but  of 
greater  importance  than  anything  he  had  ever 
undertaken.  He  was  going  back  to  the  ranch 
in  the  morning  to  tell  Hathaway  that  his 
daughter  was  apparently  all  right.  He  and 
Carter  had  pitched  their  tent  not  far  from 
where  the  round-up  was  camped,  and  had  rid- 
den over  for  some  beef.  One  of  the  men  cut 
them  a  liberal  piece  from  a  yearling  that  they 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         111 

had  just  butchered.  Carter  tied  it  upon  the 
back  of  his  saddle  and  rode  off  toward  camp, 
while  old  Jim  McCuUen  sat  down,  lighted  a 
cigarette,  and  listened  to  the  gossip  of  the 
round-up. 

"  Right  smart  lot  o'  dogs  round  them  breeds 
down  there,"  remarked  Bill  Henry,  nodding 
his  head  toward  Harris'  ranch.  "Long  Bill, 
here,  he's  been  unfortunate.  Went  up  there 
a-courtin'  one  o'  them  pretty  Harris  girls  last 
evenin',  an'  blamed  if  she  didn't  go  an'  sick  the 
dogs  on  him!" 

McCuUen  sized  up  his  bandaged  hand. 
"Mighty  bad-lookin'  fist  there,"  he  chuckled. 
"  Must  'a'  bled  some  by  the  looks  of  that  rag. 
When'd  it  happen?" 

"  This  mornin',  just  as  I  was  startin'  to  come 
over  to  camp." 

"You  don't  tell  I"  condoled  the  visitor. 
"  That's  mighty  bad  after  sitting  up  all  night 
with  your  best  girl ! " 

"  Long  Bill's  pretty  intent  after  them  breed 
girls,"  remarked  Captain  Bill  Henry;  there- 
upon the  cowboy  flushed  angrily. 


112         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"  No  breed  girls  in  mine !  The  new  school- 
marm's  more  to  my  Hkin',"  he  boasted.  "An' 
from  the  sweet  looks  she  give  me,  I  reckon  I 
ain't  goin'  to  have  no  trouble  there ! " 

The  next  instant  Long  Bill  lay  sprawling  in 
the  dust,  while  old  Jim  McCuUen  rained  blow 
after  blow  upon  him.  When  he  finished.  Long 
Bill  remained  motionless,  the  blood  streaming 
from  his  nose  and  mouth.  Old  Jim  straight- 
ened up  and  looked  down  at  the  fallen  giant 
with  utmost  contempt,  then  he  pulled  his  dis- 
arranged cartridge  belt  into  shape  and  glanced 
at  his  hands.  They  were  covered  with  the  cow- 
boy's blood. 

"Reckon  I'd  better  wash  up  a  bit,"  he  re- 
marked easily,  and  went  into  the  cook-tent. 

The  men  lounged  about,  apparently  indif- 
ferent to  the  scene  which  was  being  enacted. 
It  might  have  been  an  every  day  occurrence,  so 
little  interest  they  showed,  yet  several  stalwart 
fellows  gave  old  Jim  McCullen  an  admiring 
glance  as  he  passed  them. 

On  the  crest  of  a  near  divide  stood  a  group 
of  squaws.    After  a  short  conference  they  pro- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         113 

ceeded  slowly,  shyly  toward  the  round-up 
camp.  Some  distance  from  it  they  grouped 
together  again  and  waited  while  a  very  old 
woman  wrapped  in  a  dingy  white  blanket 
came  boldly  up  to  the  group  of  men,  and  in  a 
jargon  of  French  and  Indian  asked  for  the 
refuse  of  the  newly  killed  yearling.  The  fore- 
man pointed  to  where  it  lay,  and  gruffly  told 
her  to  go  and  get  it,  but  she  spied  the  uncon- 
scious figure  of  Long  Bill  stretched  out  upon 
the  grassy  flat,  and  with  a  low  cry  of  woe  flung 
herself  down  beside  him. 

"Who  done  this?"  she  cried  in  very  plain 
English,  facing  the  cowboys  with  a  look  of 
blackest  anger.    No  answer  came. 

"  Better  tell  her,"  suggested  a  cow-puncher 
who  was  unrolling  his  bed.  "  She's  a  witch, 
you  know." 

"  If  she's  a  witch  she  don't  need  no  telling," 
replied  another,  at  which  they  all  laughed. 

"A  witch?"  said  one.  "I  sure  thought 
witches  were  all  burned  up  I " 

The  old  squaw  was  examining  the  fallen 
man,  who  began  to  show  signs  of  consciousness. 


114         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

She  bristled  like  a  dog  at  the  cowboy's  re- 
mark. 

"  I  see  beyond!  I  know  the  future,  the  past, 
everything!"  she  cried  impressively.  "I  read 
your  thoughts!  Say  what  you  like,  you  dogs, 
but  not  one  o'  you  would  like  me  to  tell  what  I 
read  in  your  lives.  I  know!  I  know!  I  know 
everything! "  Her  voice  reached  a  high,  weird 
cry.  Her  blanket  had  slipped  down,  leaving 
her  hair  in  wisps  about  her  mummified  face. 
To  all  appearances  she  might  have  been  a  gen- 
uine witch  as  she  groveled  over  Long  Bill. 

"Ask  her  how  she  tells  fortunes — cards  or 
tea-leaves,"  said  one. 

"  Or  by  the  palm  of  your  hand  or  the  stars 
above,"  suggested  another. 

"  Wonder  where  she  keeps  her  broom-stick," 
mused  a  third. 

Just  then  McCullen  came  out  of  the  cook- 
tent  and  faced  the  spectacle. 

"  I  see  he's  found  a  nurse,"  he  remarked, 
and  walked  over  to  his  horse. 

The  old  woman  stood  and  gesticulated 
wildly,  throwing  mad,  incoherent  words  at 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         115 

him.  Finally  her  jargon  changed  into  fair. 
English. 

"You  dog,  you  did  this!  And  why?  Ah, 
ha,  ha  I  /  know!  I  know  all  things  I  Because 
of  the  white  girl!  Sol  Ha,  hal  Must  you 
alone  love  the  white  girl  so  that  no  man  can 
speak  her  name?  Oh,  you  can't  deny  you 
love  her !  You,  who  ride  and  hunt  with  her  for 
fifteen  years.  Cannot  another  man  open  his 
mouth  but  that  you  must  fly  at  him?  Ha,  hal 
I  know!" 

"I'll  wring  your  neck,  you  old 1"  said 

McCullen  at  his  horse's  head. 

"You  will  stop  my  tongue,  will  you!  I'll 
show  you  I  You  are  up  here  to  watch  that  girl 
— ^but  where's  your  eyes?  What  are  you 
doing?  This  is  my  son-in-law,  and  you'd  like 
to  wipe  him  from  the  face  of  the  earth !  You 
beat  him  in  the  face — ^him  with  one  hand !  See  I 
How  did  he  get  it?  Why  are  some  of  my 
other  son-in-laws  limping  about  with  bullets 
in  their  legs?  Why  is  a  man  lying  dead  up  in 
the  mountains?  Why  all  this  at  once?  Ask 
that  white  girl  who  teaches  little  children  to  be 


116         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

good!  Ask  that  devil's  child  who  can  put  a 
bullet  straight  as  her  eye!  Ask  her!  She 
would  destroy  my  people.  Curse  her  soul,  I 
say!" 

Suddenly  the  witch-hke  spirit  in  her  seemed 
to  shrivel  into  the  blanket  which  she  wrapped 
about  her,  then  with  placid,  expressionless  face 
she  made  her  way  to  where  the  yearling  had 
been  butchered  and  hurriedly  stuffed  the  ref- 
use into  a  gunny  sack  which  she  dragged  to 
where  the  other  squaws  were  waiting,  then 
they  all  made  off. 

Long  Bill  sat  up  and  looked  about  him. 
"Curse  who?"  he  asked.  "Curse  me,  I 
reckon  fer  not  knowin'  enough  to  keep  my 
mouth  shut!" 

McCuUen,  with  face  and  lips  pallid,  had 
mounted  his  horse.  Long  Bill  pulled  himself 
together  and  walked  over  toward  him. 

"  I'll  take  that  back,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't 
mean  it,  nohow." 

"  I  reckon  I  was  over-hasty,"  McCuUen  re- 
phed.  "  But  that  was  our  little  girl  you  were 
talkin'  about — ^little  Hope;  an'  no  man  on 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         117 

earth,  let  alone  a  common  squaw-man,  ain't 
goin'  to  even  breathe  her  name  disrespectfully. 
She's  like  my  own  child.  I've  almost  brought 
her  up.  Learned  her  little  baby  fingers  to 
shoot,  an'  had  her  on  a  horse  before  she  could 
talk  plain.  Don't  let  her  find  this  out,  for  I'm 
plumb  sorry  I  had  to  hurt  you;  but  the  man 
who  says  more  than  you  did  dies!"  He  rode 
away  and  soon  was  lost  in  the  deep  falling 
shadows.  The  men  in  the  cow-camp  unrolled 
their  bedding,  and  all  was  soon  one  with  the 
stillness  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ALL  the  small  ranchers  and  disrepu- 
/-%  table  stragglers  about  that  immediate 
"^  vicinity  were  of  one  opinion  in  regard 
to  the  new  sheep-man.  This  particular  section 
of  the  country  promised  to  be  soon  over- 
crowded with  cattle  and  horses.  There  was  no 
room  in  their  mountains  for  sheep.  Living- 
ston, the  interloper,  must  vacate.  That  was 
the  unanimous  decision  of  the  whole  Harris 
faction.  This  gang  was  a  mixture  of  bad- 
ness, a  scum  of  the  roughest  element  from  the 
face  of  the  globe,  which  in  new  countries  inva- 
riably drifts  close  upon  the  heels  of  the  first 
settlers.  It  is  the  herald  of  civilization,  but 
fortunately  goes  on  before  its  advance  to 
other  fields  or  is  deeply  buried  in  its  midst. 
The  breeds,  pliable  to  the  strong  will  of  Joe 
Harris,  were  not  an  unimportant  factor,  and 

118 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         119 

among  these,  old  Mother  White  Blanket  was 
the  ruling  spirit. 

She  lived  in  a  tepee  not  a  rod  to  the  left  of 
Harris'  squalid  log  buildings.  Her  daughter 
was  the  cattle-man's  wife,  therefore  the  old 
woman  had  particular  rights  about  the  prem- 
ises, a  mother-in-law's  rights,  more  honored 
and  considered  among  Indians  than  among 
civilized  whites. 

Her  tepee  was  the  usual  Indian  affair,  its 
conical,  pointed  top.  dingy  with  the  smoke  of 
many  camp-fires.  Back  of  the  old  woman's 
tepee,  at  various  distances,  stood  a  few  ordi- 
nary wall  tents.  These  were  occupied  by  the 
families  of  some  breeds  who  were  working  for 
Harris.  The  whole,  heightened  by  numerous 
dogs  and  the  old  squaw  stooping  over  her  fire, 
presented  the  appearance  of  a  small  Indian 
camp,  such  as  may  be  seen  about  any  reserva- 
tion. The  old  woman's  rattle-trap  cart  stood 
beside  her  lodge,  for  she  had  her  periods  of 
wandering,  after  the  manner  of  her  race.  The 
running  gears  of  a  couple  of  dilapidated 
wagons  were  drawn  up  between  the  other  tents, 


120         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

and  not  far  away  two  closely  hobbled  horses, 
unmistakably  Indian,  for  horses  resemble 
their  human  associates,  fed  eagerly  upon  the 
short,  new  grass. 

At  an  early  hour,  when  the  rising  sun  cast 
rosy  lights  upon  every  grass-covered  moun- 
tain top,  when  bird  notes  from  the  distant 
brush  sounded  the  most  melodious,  when  the 
chanticleer  in  the  barnyard  became  loudest  in 
his  crowing,  when  the  dew  of  night  began  to 
steam  upward  in  its  vitality-giving  stream, 
when  the  pigs  with  a  grunt  rose  lazily  upon 
their  fore-legs,  and  old  Mother  White  Blanket 
bent  over  the  smoke  of  her  newly  built  camp- 
fire,  the  girl  school-teacher  came  out  of  her 
room  and  leaned  against  the  smooth  rain- 
washed  logs  of  the  building.  She  drew  in  with 
every  deep  breath  new  vitality  to  add  to  her 
plentiful  fund  of  it,  she  saw  the  rosy  glow 
upon  the  mountains,  listened  in  awe  and  rap- 
ture to  the  bird  notes  from  the  brush,  and 
finally  brought  herself  back  to  more  material 
things;  to  old  Mother  White  Blanket  and  the 
Indian  scene  spread  out  before  her. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         121 

The  old  woman  was  bending  over  the  fire 
apparently  unconscious  of  the  girl's  presence. 
From  the  school  children  Hope  had  learned 
something  of  the  wonderful  perceptive  powers 
of  Mother  White  Blanket.  They  had  in- 
numerable stories  of  witchcraft  to  tell,  as  vari- 
ous as  they  were  astonishing,  and,  while  cred- 
iting nothing,  she  felt  a  quickened  interest 
in  the  old  squaw.  But  she  had  so  far  no  oppor- 
tunity to  cultivate  her  acquaintance.  Gen- 
erally the  spaces  between  the  tents  were  filled 
with  groups  of  breeds,  and  these  she  had  no  in- 
clination to  approach.  Now,  quiet  pervaded 
the  place.  No  one  except  the  old  woman  and 
herself  were  about.  She  knew  full  well  that 
the  squaw  had  seen  her,  but  on  an  impulse 
walked  over  beside  the  tepee,  spreading  out 
her  hands  to  the  warmth  of  the  fire. 

"Good-morning!"  she  exclaimed.  Mother 
White  Blanket  made  no  reply,  and  turning 
her  back  proceeded  to  fill  a  large  black  kettle 
with  water. 

"Good-morning!"  repeated  Hope  in 
French,   to  which  greeting  the  old  woman 


122         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

grunted,  while  she  placed  the  kettle  over  the 
fire. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  continued  Hope.  "  I 
forgot  for  the  moment  you  were  French." 

At  this  old  White  Blanket  stood  up,  anger 
bristHng  all  over  her. 

"What  you  come  here  for?  You  stand 
there  and  make  fun.  You  think  I  don't  know 
you  make  fun  at  me?  Go  away,  girl,  or  you  be 
sorry !  You  call  me  French  and  laugh  to  your- 
self.   Go  away,  I  say ! " 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  shall  not  go  away 
until  it  pleases  me.  I  have  heard  that  you  are 
a  great  woman,  a  witch,  and  I  want  to  find  out 
if  it  is  true."  She  had  not  one  particle  of  be- 
lief in  the  old  woman's  generally  credited 
supernatural  powers,  but  she  thought  she 
must  possess  sharp  wit  to  so  deceive  the  people 
and  was  curious  to  know  more  about  her.  This 
she  was  destined  to  do. 

"I  have  heard,"  she  continued,  "that  you 
can  bring  the  wild  deer  to  your  side  by  caUing 
to  them,  that  a  horse  or  cow  will  He  down  and 
die  when  you  command,  and  that  little  chil- 


On  her  face  was  the  snarl  of  a  do"". 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         123 

dren  who  annoy  you  are  taken  with  severe  pains 
in  their  stomachs.  I  have  heard  that  you  can 
say  *go'  to  any  of  your  men  or  women  and 
they  go ;  that  if  anyone  is  sick  you  can  lay  your 
hand  on  them  and  they  are  well,  and  that  you 
can  tell  the  future  and  the  past  of  anyone.  If 
all  these  things  are  true  you  must  be  a  very 
great,  remarkable  woman.  Is  it  true  that  you 
can  do  all  these  things?"  She  waited  a  mo- 
ment and,  as  the  old  woman  offered  no  reply, 
went  on:  "Whether  you  can  do  these  things 
or  not,  you  still  remain,  in  my  eyes,  a  remark- 
able woman  in  possessing  the  ability  to  make 
people  believe  that  you  can." 

"You  shall  believe  them  too,  you!"  said 
the  woman,  suddenly  rising  and  confronting 
the  girl. 

As  she  spoke  two  yellow  fangs  of  teeth 
protuded  from  her  thin  lips,  and  on  her 
face  was  the  snarl  of  a  dog.  She  drew  up  her 
mummified  face  within  two  inches  of  the  girl's 
own.  Hope  shuddered  and  involuntarily 
moved  backward  toward  the  house.  With 
every  step  she  took  the  squaw  followed,  her 


124         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

weazened  face  and  cruel,  baneful  eyes  held 
close  to  hers. 

"  You  murderer  of  men,  you  teacher  of  little 
children,  you  butcher,  I  will  show  you  my 
power!" 

The  girl  recoiled  from  the  frenzied  woman, 
shutting  out  the  sight  with  her  hands  and  mov- 
ing backward  step  by  step  until  she  leaned 
against  the  smooth  logs  of  the  building. 
There  the  foolishness  of  her  sudden  fright 
presented  itself.  Should  the  grimaces  of  a 
weazened  old  squaw  frighten  her  into  a  fit,  or 
should  she  pick  up  the  bony  thing  and  throw 
her  over  the  top  of  the  tepee?  An  impulse  to 
do  the  latter  came  over  her — ^then  to  her  fancy 
she  could  hear  the  crashing  of  brittle  bones. 
What  she  did  do,  however,  was  to  take  her 
hands  away  from  her  eyes  and  look  at  the  old 
witch  fearlessly.  At  this  old  White  Blanket 
broke  into  a  terrible  jargon,  not  a  word  of 
which  was  intelligible.  Her  voice  rose  to  its 
utmost  pitch.  The  crisp  morning  air  re- 
sounded with  its  sharp  intonations. 

Hope  leaned  against  the  logs  of  the  house. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         125 

lashing  the  squaw  into  greater  fury  by  her  cool, 
impertinent  gaze.  She  began  to  be  interested 
in  the  performance,  speculating  to  just  what 
degree  of  rage  the  old  woman  would  reach 
before  she  foamed  at  the  mouth,  and  as  to  how 
much  strength  she  would  have  to  exert  to  pitch 
the  frail  thing  bodily  into  the  top  of  the  tepee. 

At  that  instant  a  man,  apparently  hurriedly 
dressed,  rushed  from  the  lodge  and  grasped 
the  old  woman  by  the  arm. 

"  What're  you  doin'  ?  Go  over  there  and  git 
my  breakfast,  and  don't  be  all  day  about  it ! " 

The  old  woman's  face  changed  marvelously. 
She  calmed  like  a  dove,  under  the  hand  of  her 
son-in-law,  but  before  turning  away  began 
muttering  what  might  have  been  intended  for 
an  apology. 

"  I  no  hurt  her.  She  think  I  know  nothing. 
I  show  her." 

The  man  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  Well,  you  show  me  some  grub  an'  that'll  be 
enough  f er  one  day,  I  reckon.  Wimmen  folks 
should  be  seen  an'  not  heard,  an'  you  make  as 
much  noise  as  an  old  guinea  hen."    Meekly  the 


126         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

old  woman  continued  her  interrupted  task, 
showing  that  in  spite  of  his  gruff  speech  she 
entertained  great  respect  for  her  tall  son-in- 
law,  Long  Bill. 

"  Hope  the  old  woman  didn't  frighten  you, 
Miss.  She  don't  mean  nothin'  by  it,  only  she 
gits  them  spells  once  in  a  while,"  apologized 
Long  Bill  poHtely.  Hope  gave  a  short  laugh, 
while  the  man  continued:  "Seems  like  all 
Hades  is  turned  loose  when  she  does  git  on  the 
rampage,  though." 

"Probably  I  aggravated  her.  If  so,  I  am 
sorry.  But  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it — not 
for  anything.  Her  rage  was  perfect — such 
gestures,  and  such  expressions ! " 

At  her  words  the  man  smiled,  holding  up  to 
his  face  as  he  did  so  a  bandaged  hand.  In  an 
instant  her  eyes  were  riveted  upon  it.  She  had 
searched  for  that  hand  since  Saturday  even- 
ing among  all  the  men  she  had  chanced  to  see. 
That  this  great,  strong  fellow  possessed  it 
eased  her  conscience,  if,  indeed,  it  had  greatly 
troubled  her.  She  wanted  to  get  him  to  talk 
about  the  hand,  but  shifted  her  eyes  from  it 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         127 

to  the  old  woman  moving  slowly  before  the 
tepee. 

"She  seems  a  very  interesting  woman," 
she  remarked  casually  to  Long  Bill,  who 
through  sheer  awkwardness  made  no  attempt 
to  move  away. 

"Oh,  she's  a  little  locoed,  but  barrin'  that 
she's  smarter'n  a  steel  trap.  They  ain't  nothin' 
goin'  on  but  she's  got  her  eye  peeled.  If  she 
takes  a  likin'  to  anyone  she'll  just  about  break 
her  neck  to  please,  but,"  he  added  in  a  lower 
voice,  "if  she  ain't  a-likin'  anyone  she's  just 

about  the   orneriest,   cussedest "     Words 

failed,  in  view  of  the  critical  eyes  before  him. 

"Do  you  belong  to  the  family?"  asked 
Hope,  observing :  "I  noticed  you  came  from 
the  tepee." 

"Well,  you  see,"  replied  the  man  awk- 
wardly, "  I  sort  of  do — that  is,  I  did.  I  mar- 
ried her  youngest  girl  awhile  back,  but  I  ain't 
sure  now  we're  goin'  to  make  it  a  go.  You  see 
I  'lowed  to  meet  her  here  when  the  round-up 
come  'round  to  these  parts,  but  here's  she's 
done  run  off  to  Canada  with  some  o'  her  folks, 


128         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

and  I  ain't  set  eyes  on  her  f er  nigh  on  to  four 
months.  But  we've  been  spHced  all  right 
'nough,  an'  the  old  woman's  mighty  fond  o' 
me." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be  glad  of  that ! " 
exclaimed  Hope.  "  It  would  be  too  bad  if  she 
didn't  like  you.  I  am  sorry  she  is  not  in  a  more 
amiable  mood,  for  I'd  really  like  to  talk  with 
her;  but  perhaps  I  will  be  permitted  to  ap- 
proach her  later  in  the  day." 

"  Oh,  she'll  be  all  right,  now  she's  had  her 
spell  out,"  assured  Long  Bill. 

"  You  speak  of  the  round-up ;  why  are  you 
not  with  it?"  queried  the  girl,  with  cool  in- 
tent. 

Long  Bill  brought  his  huge  bandaged  fist 
up  before  him,  resting  it  upon  the  well  one. 

"I  had  a  little  accident  th'  other  day,"  he 
explained,  "  an'  hurt  my  hand  powerful  bad. 
It  ain't  goin'  to  be  much  use  f  er  handlin'  a  rope 
fer  quite  a  spell.  Had  to  let  the  round-up 
move  away  without  me."  His  voice  grew 
plaintive. 

She  spoke  quickly,  with  great  compassion. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         129 

"  I  am  sorry!  It  seems  too  bad  to  see  a  great 
big  fellow  like  you  disabled.  How  did  it 
happen?" 

"  Well,  it  was  like  this :  I  come  over  here  th' 
other  night  an'  got  to  settin'  'round  here  doin' 
no  thin',  so  I  thought  I'd  improve  th'  time  an' 
clean  this  here  gun  o'  mine.  It's  been  a-needin' 
it  powerful  bad  fer  awhile  back.  I  didn't 
know  there  was  nary  load  in  it  until  the  blame 
thing  went  off  an'  I  felt  somethin'  kind  o'  sud- 
den an'  hot  piercin'  my  left  hand.  It  was  a 
fool  trick  to  do,  but  it's  the  gospel  truth.  Miss." 

"I  heard — ^that  is,  the  boys  said  something 
about  a  shooting  affair  up  the  road."  She 
pointed  toward  the  sheep-man's  ranch.  "I 
thought  for  a  moment  that  perhaps  you  had 
been  mixed  up  in  that.  I'm  very  glad  to 
know  that  you  were  not,  because  you  know  it 
wasn't  a  very  nice,  manly  thing  to  do  to  a  de- 
fenseless stranger."  Her  cool  eyes  watched 
his  nervous  shifting.  "You  see  I  can't  very 
well  help  hearing  a  lot  of  things  around  here. 
The  girls  hear  things  and  they  tell  me,  and  then 
I  am  often  forced  to  overhear  the  men  and 


130         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

boys  talking  among  themselves.  It's  none  of 
my  business,  but  yet  I  am  glad  to  know  that 
you  were  not  one  to  set  upon  an  innocent  white 
man.  I  scarcely  know  this  Mr.  Livingston  by 
sight,  but  he  is  a  friend  of  Sydney's,  my  cousin, 
and  they  say," — ^here  she  drew  out  her  words 
slowly  and  impressively, — "that  over  in  his 
country  he  has  been  in  the  army  and  is  well 
versed  in  firearms;  also  that  he  has  a  small 
Gatling  gun  with  him  over  here  that  shoots 
hundreds  of  shots  a  minute.  So  he  really  isn't 
so  defenseless  as  he  seems."  This  startled  the 
man  into  open-mouth  astonishment. 

"  I  thought  there  was  something ! — I  mean  I 
thought,  when  I  heard  tell  about  the  fracas 
over  there,  that  there  was  somethin'  like  that 
in  the  wind,"  stanmiered  the  man. 

Apparently  Hope  had  told  a  deliberate  un- 
truth to  force  a  confession  from  Long  Bill, 
but  yet  it  was  a  fact  that  she  had  heard  some- 
thing very  similar.  On  the  day  before,  Sun- 
day, Jim  McCuUen  had  come  to  visit  her. 
From  his  camp  the  noise  of  the  shooting  had 
been   plainly   heard,    and   through    curiosity 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         131 

he  and  Carter  had  ridden  to  Livingston's 
ranch  to  inquire  into  it,  but  the  sheep-man  had 
been  very  reticent  about  the  matter.  Had  told 
them  only  that  there  had  been  trouble  with 
some  breeds,  and  his  herder  had  been  killed. 
This  old  Jim  repeated  to  Hope,  adding  that 
Livingston  must  have  a  Gatling  gun  concealed 
on  his  place,  judging  from  the  sound  of  the 
firing.  So  Hope  in  her  effort  to  impress  the 
tall  cow-puncher  had  not  used  her  imagination 
wholly. 

"  I  am  glad  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  it," 
she  concluded,  walking  slowly  away  toward 
the  kitchen  end  of  the  house.  "And  I  hope 
your  hand  will  soon  be  well." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Long  Bill.  "  I  didn't 
have  nothin'  to  do  with  it.  No  Gatlin'  guns 
in  mine,  Missl" 


CHAPTER  X 

WE'LL  beat  any  cow-pony  workin' 
on  the  round-up,"  declared  the 
soft-voiced  twin  as  he  coiled  up  the 
stake-rope  and  tied  it  on  to  his  saddle. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
same  day.  School  had  been  dismissed  and  the 
dozen  children  of  various  sizes  were  straggling 
homeward.  Hope  stood  beside  her  horse 
patiently  waiting  for  the  twins  to  go,  but  they 
seemed  in  no  particular  hurry.  She  listened 
absent-mindedly  to  the  boys'  conversation. 

"An'  another  thing  about  this  pony  o'  mine, 
he'll  never  slack  up  on  a  rope,"  continued 
Dan.  "Once  you've  got  a  rope  on  a  steer 
he'll  never  budge  till  the  cinch  busts  oiF  the 
saddle.  He'll  just  sit  right  back  on  his 
haunches  an'  pull  Yes,  sir;  you'd  think  he 
knew  just  as  much  as  a  man! " 

Dave  grunted.  "  He's  all  right'  nough,  only 

133 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         133 

he'll  bust  the  bridle  if  you  tie  him,  an'  he  won't 
stand  without  bein'  tied.  He'll  buck  if  he's 
cinched  too  tight  or  gets  too  much  to  eat,  an' 
he  ain't  fit  for  a  lady  to  ride,  nohow.  He's  an 
Indian  pinto  to  boot,  a  regular  fool  calico 
pony!  Now  my  horse  is  an  all  'round  good 
one,  an'  so  gentle  any  lady  can  ride  him,  just 
like  any  sensible  horse  ought  to  be." 

"Yes,  that's  all  he's  good  for,  is  to  stand 
'round  an'  look  pretty,  like  some  o'  these  here 
bloods — an'  them  pretty  soldiers  over  to  the 
post.  I  notice  when  there's  any  real  work  to 
be  done,  Mr.  Dude  ain't  in  it.  Oh,  he  can 
stand  'round  an'  look  pretty  all  right,  but  the 
pinto 's  the  best  all  'round,  an's  got  the  most 
sense!" 

Their  discussion  seemed  at  an  end,  for  the 
soft-voiced  twin  having  fastened  the  rope 
securely,  walked  around  to  the  other  side  of  his 
pinto  and  had  just  turned  the  stirrup  toward 
him,  preliminary  to  mounting,  when  the  other 
boy  grasped  him  roughly  by  the  collar,  throw- 
ing him  backward  to  the  ground. 

"That's  my  lariat;  you  hand  it  over  here!" 


134        HOPE    HATHAWAY 

he  exclaimed  gruffly;  thereupon  the  soft- 
voiced  twin  picked  himself  up,  very  carefully 
brushed  the  dust  from  his  sleeve,  and  answered 
slowly,  in  a  particularly  sweet  tone: 

"  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  fight  you  here  in  front  of 
the  teacher.  That's  my  rope.  Go  an'  get  it 
if  you  want  it!  But  she's  got  yourn.  I  saw 
her  pick  it  up  by  mistake  this  mornin'.  You've 
tied  up  your  dude  cayuse  twice  with  her'n  to- 
day. Must  have  somethin'  the  matter  with 
your  eyes.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  lick  you  er  fight 
with  you,  but  I'm  goin'  to  get  even  with  you 
for  this!" 

"Here's  your  rope,"  said  Hope,  taking  it 
from  her  saddle  and  handing  it  to  the  boy, 
Dave  took  it  shamefacedly,  throwing  her  rope 
on  the  ground,  then  hid  himself  on  the  opposite 
side  of  his  pony.  In  an  instant  the  soft- 
voiced  twin  picked  up  the  teacher's  stake-rope, 
coiled  it,  and  tied  it  on  to  her  saddle. 

The  girl  stood  to  one  side  watching  him. 
She  wondered  at  his  quickness.  He  must  have 
inherited  something  of  his  grandmother's 
acuteness.     But  her  sympathy  turned  to  the 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         135 

other  boy — big,  clumsy,  rough  Dave.  He 
was  standing  out  of  sight  behind  his  horse,  em- 
barrassed by  his  own  error.  Hope  felt  sorry 
for  him.  She  had  already  found  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  keep  peace  between  these  boys  and  her- 
self. Each  day  brought  some  new  ruffle  that 
required  all  her  wit  to  smooth  over. 

The  soft- voiced  twin  handed  the  bridle  reins 
to  her,  then  turned  to  his  own  horse,  which 
had  wandered  away  toward  more  tempting 
pasture.  The  girl  thanked  him,  and  walked 
over  to  Dave.  He  looked  at  her  sullenly,  a 
certain  dogged  obstinacy  in  his  eyes.  She  had 
intended  to  say  something  kind  to  him,  instead 
she  spoke  indifferently,  yet  to  the  point. 

"  Go  home  with  Dan  the  same  as  usual.  Say 
nothing  about  it,  but  get  my  rifle  and  meet  me 
here  at  the  school  in  two  hours — six  o'clock. 
There  is  a  big  flock  of  chickens  that  fly  over 
that  point  every  evening." 

The  boy  made  no  reply,  but  his  face  changed 
noticeably,  and  he  jumped  on  his  horse,  calling 
his  twin  to  hurry  up;  but  the  soft-voiced  boy 
had  no  notion  of  leaving  his  teacher,  so  Dave, 


136         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

with  a  savage  whoop,  ran  his  pony  to  the  top 
of  the  hill,  leaving  the  school-house  and  his 
uncomfortable  feelings  far  in  the  background. 

"Why  don't  you  go  with  him?"  asked  the 
girl. 

"  I'm  waitin'  for  you,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  But  I'm  not  going  just  now.  You'd  better 
run  along  with  Dave." 

"I  ain't  in  no  hurry." 

**  Aren't  you ?  Well,  that  is  good,  for  I  just 
happened  to  think  of  something.  I  want  you 
to  go  down  to  Pete  La  Due's  place  where  they 
are  branding,  and  hang  around  awhile  and 
keep  your  ears  open.  There  will  be  a  lot  of 
breeds  there,  and  some  of  those  men  over  on 
Crow  Creek,  and  maybe  something  will  be  said 
that  we  ought  to  know  about.  You  under- 
stand. You  are  my  faithful  scout,  you  know. 
And  another  thing — don't  try  to  pay  Dave 
back  for  what  he  did.  He's  sorry  enough 
about  it." 

The  boy's  face  took  on  a  shrewd,  determined 
expression,  causing  him  at  once  to  look  years 
older.    For  an  instant  Hope  imagined  that  he 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         137 

resembled  his  aged  grandmother,  old  White 
Blanket,  the  "  witch." 

"  I'll  go  over  there,"  he  replied,  "  an'  I'll  see 
what  I  can  find  out,  but  about  Dave — I'll  get 
even  with  him  if  it  takes  me  ten  years.  He 
needs  teachin'." 

"We  all  do,"  said  the  girl  thoughtfully. 
"  I  have  begun  a  series  of  lessons  myself — on 
humanity.  No,  on  sympathy,  on  what  is  ex- 
pected of  a  womanly  woman.  We're  lucky 
when  we  have  a  good  teacher,  aren't  we?  But 
it's  pretty  hard  to  learn  what  doesn't  come 
natural.  Remember  Dave  isn't  like  you.  He 
wasn't  made  like  you,  and  never  will  be  like 
you.  Think  of  this,  and  don't  be  hard  on  him, 
that's  a  good  boy." 

The  soft-voiced  twin  smiled  sweetly,  and 
mounting  his  horse,  remarked: 

"  I  expect  I'd  better  be  movin'  over  there  if 
I'm  goin'  to  find  out  anything  to-day." 

"Yes,"  said  Hope,  pleased  that  he  should 
leave  her  at  last.  "  I  think  you're  right.  Be 
sure  to  come  home  before  bedtime  and 
report/^ 


138         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

The  boy  dug  his  heels  into  the  pinto's  sides, 
starting  off  on  a  bound.  She  watched  him, 
absent-mindedly,  until  he  disappeared  over  the 
hill-top,  then  she  rode  away  at  a  lively  canter 
toward  the  sheep-man's  ranch. 

A  horseman  came  rapidly  toward  her  before 
she  reached  Livingston's  gate.  It  was  a  slen- 
der, boyish  figure,  who  sat  his  horse  with 
remarkable  ease  and  grace.  The  girl  frowned 
savagely  when  she  saw  him,  but  only  for  an 
instant.  He  waved  his  hat  above  his  dark  head 
and  called  to  her  from  the  distance.  His  voice 
possessed  a  rich  musical  ring  which  might 
have  stood  for  honesty  and  youthful  buoy- 
ancy. 

When  Hope  met  him  she  was  smiling.  In 
fun  she  passed  rapidly,  seeing  which  he  wheeled 
his  horse  about,  caught  up  with  her,  and  lean- 
ing far  over,  grasped  the  bridle,  bringing  her 
horse  to  a  stand-still  beside  him.  It  was  an  old 
trick  of  his  boyhood.  The  girl's  ringing 
laughter  reached  a  small  group  of  men  at  work 
with  shovels  upon  the  rise  of  a  green  knoll  not 
far  away.     They  stopped  work  and  listened. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         139 

but  the  notes  died  away  and  nothing  more 
could  be  heard. 

"That  wasn't  fair,  Syd!"  she  cried.  "I 
thought  you'd  forgotten  it.  I  was  going  to 
run  you  a  race." 

"  Rowdy's  thin,  he  couldn't  run.  A  stake- 
rope  don't  agree  with  him,  and  I'll  bet  he 
hasn't  seen  an  oat  since  you've  been  here,"  he 
answered,  growing  sober.  "  Hopie,  dear,  leave 
these  breeds  and  go  home,  that's  a  good  girl! 
I  can't  bear  to  have  you  stay  there.  You've 
been  up  here  a  week  and  you  look  thin  already. 
I'll  bet  you're  starving  right  now !  Come,  own 
up,  aren't  you  hungry?" 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  it,"  replied  Hope. 
"  But  now  that  you  remind  me,  I  believe  I  am 
— ^the  least  bit.  A  steady  diet  of  eggs — ^boiled 
in  their  own  shells,  is  apt  to  make  one  hungry 
at  times  for  a  good  dinner.  But  what's  the 
difference?    I  feel  fine.    It  certainly  agrees." 

"But  that's  terrible!  Eggs!  Eggs  only — 
eggs  in  the  shell.  Haven't  you  brought  your- 
self to  meat,  bread,  and  potatoes  yet?  Eggs 
only!    It's  a  joke,  Hope,  but  somehow  I  can't 


140         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

feel  amused.  I've  eaten  eggs  for  a  meal  or 
two,  around  those  places,  but  a  week  of  it! 
Hope,  your  father  wants  you.  Go  home  to 
him!" 

"No;  you  see  it's  this  way,  Sydney,  I 
couldn't  if  I  would,  and  I  wouldn't  if  I  could. 
I  couldn't  because  father  told  me  to  stay  until 
the  school  term  ended,  and  I  wouldn't  because 
— I  like  it  here.  It's  new  and  exciting.  I  feel 
just  like  a  boy  does  in  going  out  into  the  world 
for  the  first  time.  You  know  how  that  is,  Syd, 
how  you  roamed  about  for  months  and  months. 
You  had  your  fling  and  then  you  were  satis- 
fied." 

"  I  know,"  said  Carter  softly,  stroking  her 
horse's  neck.  "But  you  had  such  a  free 
*  fling '  there  at  the  ranch,  what  else  could  you 
want?  You  had  your  choice  between  the  ranch 
and  New  York.  You  could  travel  if  you 
wished.  Surely  there  was  nothing  left  to  be 
desired.  You  can't  make  me  believe  that  you 
really  like  it  up  here  among  these  breeds, 
teaching  a  handful  of  stupid  children  their 
A  B  C's!  I  can't  see  the  attraction.     Clarice 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         141 

Van  Rensselaer  with  the  Cresmonds  and  that 
Httle  jay  Englishman,  Rosehill,  are  due  at  the 
ranch  this  week.  You  like  Clarice;  go  home, 
Hope,  and  look  after  things  there.  You're 
needed,  and  you  know  it.  Do  go,  that's  a  good 
girlie!" 

"Don't  say  anything  more  ahout  it  to  me, 
Sydney.  I  can't  go,  I'm  not  going,  and  I  want 
to  forget  for  this  one  summer  about  the  ranch 
and  everyone  on  it." 

"I  am  wasting  my  breath,  but  yet,"  he 
looked  at  her  searchingly,  "  I  don't  understand 
you  in  this.  I  see  no  attraction  here  for  you. 
Why,  even  the  hunting  isn't  good!  I'll  not 
admit  that  there  is  any  attraction  for  you  in 
this  Englishman  over  here.  You've  known 
dozens  of  them,  and  you've  always  expressed 
an  aversion  to  every  one.  I'm  not  going  to  be 
scared  of  one  lone  Englishman ! "  He  grasped 
her  hand  and  his  face  darkened.  "  Hope,  if  I 
thought  you  would  ever  care  for  him  I'd " 

She  interrupted: 

"You  need  not  finish  that!  Show  a  little 
manhood!    Oh,  Syd,  a  moment  ago  you  were 


142         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

my   dear  old   companion — my  brother,    and 

now I  f  you  knew  how  I  detest  you  in  this ! 

It  is  not  yourself — your  dear  self,  at  all,  but 
the  very  devil  that  has  taken  possession  of  you. 
Sydney,  are  you  sure  there  isn't  something  the 
matter  with  your  brain?  Do  you  realize  how 
awful  it  seems?  Doesn't  it  make  you  feel 
ashamed  of  yourself  when  you  think  of  all  the 
sweetness  of  our  past  life?  It  makes  me,  Syd. 
Sometimes  at  night  before  I  go  to  sleep  I 
think  of  the  way  you've  acted  lately,  and  I  can 
feel  a  hot  flush  creep  all  over  my  face.  It 
makes  me  so  ashamed!  I've  grown  up  with 
you  for  my  brother,  I  think  of  you  always  as 
my  brother,  and  this  makes  a  new  person  out 
of  you — a  person  whom  I  neither  love  nor 
respect.  Syd,  dear  Syd,  forget  it  and  I  will 
never  think  of  it  again,  for  I  will  have  my 
brother  back.  I  loved  you,  Sydney,  you  and 
father,  better  than  anyone  else  in  this  world. 

And  now "     She  turned  her  head  away 

from  him  and  began  to  cry  quietly.  In  an 
instant  he  was  filled  with  commiseration  and 
tenderness. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         143 

"  Don't,  Hope ! "  he  exclaimed,  bending  close 
to  her.  "I  can't  stand  anything  like  that! 
Don't  cry.  I'm  sorry,  girlie.  I've  been  a  fool, 
a  brute,  a  low-lived  beggar,  but  I  can't  stand 
tears  from  you!  Here  you're  hungry,  starving, 
living  among  a  lot  of  breeds,  and  I've  added 
more  to  your  misery.  It's  all  a  mistake.  I 
know  now  when  I  see  you  crying — don't  do  it, 
dear!  You've  never  cried  since  you  were  a 
baby,  and  now  you're  such  a  great  big  girl. 
The  other  feeling's  all  gone.  I  guess  it  must 
have  been  because  you  were  the  only  girl  out 
here  and  I  let  myself  think  of  you  that  way 
until  it  grew  on  me.  But  you  are  my  sister — 
my  dear  little  pard!" 

He  had  dismounted  and  stood  beside  her. 
Now  he  reached  up  and  took  her  hands  away 
from  her  face.  She  was  ashamed  of  her  tears, 
as  people  are  who  seldom  cry,  and  hastily 
mopped  her  face  with  her  handkerchief. 

"I'm  so  glad,  Syd,  dear!"  she  exclaimed  in 
a  moment,  then  reached  down  and  kissed  him. 
"  What  a  baby  you  must  think  I  am! " 

"Your  tears  woke  me  up,  dear;  don't  be 


144         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

sorry.  Maybe  some  time  they'll  make  a  man 
out  of  me." 

"Nonsense!  you  were  a  man  all  the  time, 
only  you  didn't  know  it.  You  don't  know  how 
happy  I  was  all  at  once  when  you  called  me 
*  pard '  again.  I  knew  then  I  had  my  brother 
back." 

The  young  fellow  mounted  his  horse  again. 
His  oii^Ti  eyes  were  suspiciously  moist. 

"And  I  have  my  sister,  which  seems  better 
than  anything  to  me,"  he  said.  Then  they 
both  laughed. 

"I  was  going  to  the  Englishman's,"  said 
Hope,  "to  see  if  I  could  help  any  about  the 
poor  herder  who  was  shot." 

"  They're  burying  him  now,"  announced 
her  cousin,  "  right  around  the  bend  of  this  hill 
just  inside  the  fence.  Do  you  want  to  go  over 
there?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do,"  she  replied.  "  I  want 
to  ask  Mr.  Livingston  when  the  little  German 
girl  is  expected  to  arrive  and  what  is  going  to 
be  done  about  her." 

"The  herder's  sister?"  asked  Sydney. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         145 

"No,  his  sweetheart.  Just  think,  Sydney, 
his  Httle  sweetheart,  who  is  on  her  way  to 
marry  him!  Isn't  it  sad?  Who  will  meet  her 
and  who  will  tell  her,  I  wonder,  and  what  will 
she  do?  How  are  such  things  managed,  I 
wonder.    Isn't  it  terrible,  Syd? " 

"  Some  beggars  around  here  shot  the  poor 
fellow,  Livingston  told  me.  The  whole  bunch 
ought  to  be  hanged  for  it." 

"  It  was  a  cowardly  thing  to  do ! "  exclaimed 
the  girl. 

"  Sheep  in  a  cattle  country,  the  same  old 
story.  I  imagine  old  Harris  is  a  pretty  strong 
element  here.  They've  driven  out  a  couple  of 
bands  already.  Someone  ought  to  put  Liv- 
ingston next.  But  he  probably  scents  the 
situation  now  from  this  occurrence.  He  is  one 
of  the  kind  who  trusts  everyone.  I  met  him 
last  fall  in  town  when  he  first  came  out  here. 
He  has  put  a  lot  of  money  into  this  business, 
and  I'd  like  to  see  him  make  it  a  go.  He'll 
have  something  to  learn  by  experience.'* 

"  Isn't  it  too  bad  he  didn't  invest  in  cattle? " 
deplored  Hope. 


146         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"Yes,  though  they  say  there's  bigger  re- 
turns in  sheep."  He  pointed  ahead.  "You 
can't  see  the  men,  but  they're  just  around  that 
point  of  rocks,  though  they  must  be  about 
through  with  the  job  by  now." 

"You'll  go  along,  won't  you?  Then  you 
can  ride  back  to  the  school-house  with  me. 
I'm  going  to  meet  one  of  the  twins  there  at  six 
o'clock,  and  we're  going  to  see  if  we  can  get 
some  chickens." 

"  If  you  will  promise  to  bring  the  chickens 
over  to  the  camp  and  let  the  cook  get  you  up 
a  good,  square  meal,"  he  repUed.  "  Jim  will  be 
back  before  dark." 

"  If  I  shouldn't  happen  to  get  any  birds," 
she  asked,  "does  the  invitation  still  hold 
good?"  / 

"  Pard! "  he  reproved. 


CHAPTER  XI 

LIVIlSrGSTON  stood  alone  beside  the 
fresh  mound,  hatless,  with  head  bowed 
-^in  deep  meditation.  His  men  had 
returned  to  their  respective  duties,  having 
shown  their  last  kindness  toward  the  young 
herder  gone  on  before  them  to  the  great, 
mysterious  Beyond. 

When  Hope  and  her  companion  rounded 
the  point  of  rocks  inside  the  pasture  fence 
they  came  directly  upon  the  sheep-man  and  the 
newly  made  grave.  The  girl  reined  in  her 
horse  suddenly. 

"Syd,"  she  said  softly,  wonderingly,  "he's 
praying!''  She  had  an  impulse  to  flee  before 
he  should  see  her,  and  with  a  look  com- 
municated the  thought  to  Sydney,  but  Liv- 
ingston turned  around  and  came  quickly  down 
the  grassy  slope  toward  them.     He  greeted 

147 


148         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

them  cordially,  heartily  shaking  hands  with 
each. 

"  Is  this  not  a  beautiful  day?  I  am  glad  you 
have  come.  Miss  Hathaway.  I  wanted  you  to 
see  this  spot.  Could  any  place  be  prettier? 
See  this  green  slope  and  the  gigantic  ridge  of 
rocks  beside  it." 

"  It's  magnificent ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  What 
a  monument ! " 

"  I  had  an  idea  he  would  like  it  if  he  could 
know,"  he  continued.  "Day  after  day  he 
has  stood  up  there  on  that  point  of  rocks  and 
watched  his  sheep." 

Hope  pointed  across  the  valley  to  where  the 
grassy  slope  terminated  in  a  deep  cut-bank, 
exclaiming : 

"There  is  the  corral!"  It  came  invol- 
untarily. She  shot  a  quick  glance  at  her 
cousin,  but  he  was  gazing  thoughtfully  at  the 
magnificence  of  the  scene  before  him,  and  had 
not  noticed  the  words,  or  her  confusion  which 
followed  them,  which  was  fortunate,  she 
thought. 

If  asked  she  could  not  have  explained  why 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         149 

she  felt  in  this  manner  about  it,  and  it  is  cer- 
tain that  she  did  ask  herself.  She  had  prob- 
ably saved  Livingston's  sheep.  Well,  what  of 
it?  She  only  knew  that  she  wanted  no  one  to 
find  it  out,  least  of  all  Livingston  himself. 
She  had  a  half  fear  that  if  Sydney  ever  got 
an  inkling  of  it  he  might  sometime  tell  him,  and 
Sydney  was  very  quick;  so  she  adroitly  eased 
her  involuntary  exclamation  by  remarking: 

"That  is  a  queer  place  to  put  a  corral! 
Aren't  you  afraid  of  a  pile  up  so  near  the 
bank?" 

"I  am  not  using  it  now,"  he  replied.  "I 
put  it  there  because  Fritz  ran  his  band  on 
that  side  and  it  was  more  convenient  not  to 
drive  them  so  far.  I  am  using  this  shed  below 
here,  at  present." 

Sydney  looked  at  Hope  and  began  to  laugh, 
then  leaned  over  toward  Livingston  and 
placed  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  She'll  be  telling  you  how  to  run  your  sheep 
next.  You  mustn't  mind  her,  though,  for  she's 
been  teaching  school  a  whole  week,  and  dictat- 
ing is  getting  to  be  sort  of  second  nature  with 


150         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

her,  isn't  it,  Hopie?  And  besides  that  she  isn't 
responsible.  A  steady  diet  of  hard-boiled  eggs 
isn't  conducive " 

She  stopped  him  with  a  gesture,  laughing. 

"  That's  awfully  true,  only  I  haven't  eaten 
even  hard-boiled  eggs  since  breakfast,  and  I'm 
famished!  It  was  cruel  of  you  to  remind  me, 
Syd!" 

"You  poor  youngster!"  he  exclaimed  in 
real  commiseration.  "Is  it  as  bad  as  that? 
I'm  going  over  and  start  supper  at  once.  The 
camp  is  just  over  the  hill  there,  up  that  next 
draw."  He  pointed  ahead,  then  looked  at  his 
watch.  "  It's  after  five  now.  You  keep  your 
appointment  with  the  half-breed,  but  never 
mind  the  chickens  till  you've  had  a  square 
meal." 

She  nodded  in  answer,  smiling  at  him. 

"They're  starving  her  over  there,"  he  ex- 
plained to  Livingston,  who  looked  at  them  in 
some  wonderment.  "  They  don't  feed  her  any- 
thing but  boiled  eggs.  Tell  him  why  you 
don't  eat  anything  but  eggs,  Hope,  boiled, 
— hard  and  soft, — in  their  own  shells.    Maybe 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         151 

you  can  get  them  to  bake  you  a  potato  or  two 
in  their  own  jackets! " 

"  What  an  idea!  I  never  thought  of  that," 
she  exclaimed.  "You're  a  genius,  Syd.  But 
go  home  or  I  shall  famish !  I'll  meet  Dave  and 
come  right  over  there.  I  think  the  chickens 
will  fly  that  way  to-night,  anyway,  don't 
you?" 

"Of  course  they  will,"  replied  her  cousin, 
"  they  fly  right  over  the  top  of  my  tent  every 
evening!"  Then  he  started  away,  but  turned 
about  quickly  as  though  he  had  forgotten 
something,  and  asked  Livingston  if  he  would 
not  come  over  to  camp  for  supper,  too. 

Livingston  looked  up  into  the  dark  eyes  of 
the  girl  beside  him,  then  accepted. 

"  Good! "  said  Sydney.  "  Come  along  with 
Hope." 

"Be  sure  and  see  that  there's  enough 
cooked,"  called  the  girl  as  he  rode  away. 

"Don't  worry  about  that,  pard,"  he  an- 
swered, then,  lifting  his  hat,  waved  it  high 
above  his  head  as  he  disappeared  around  the 
reef  of  rocks. 


152         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

Hope  looked  after  him  and  was  still  smil- 
ing when  she  turned  to  Livingston.  It  may 
have  been  something  in  his  face  that  caused 
her  own  to  settle  instantly  into  its  natural 
quiet. 

"  I'd  like  to  go  up  there  for  a  moment,"  she 
said,  then  dismounted,  and  leaving  her  horse 
walked  quickly  up  the  grassy  hill  until  she 
stood  beside  the  grave.  Some  sod  had  been 
roughly  placed  upon  the  dirt,  and  scattered 
over  that  was  a  handful  of  freshly  picked 
wild  flowers. 

^'You  picked  them!"  exclaimed  the  girl 
softly,  turning  toward  him  as  he  came  and 
stood  near  her.  "  And  I  never  even  thought 
of  it !  How  could  you  think  of  it !  I  had  sup- 
posed only  women  thought  of  those  things — 
were  expected  to  think  of  them,  I  mean," 
she  added  hastily.  "You  make  me  wonder 
what " 

He  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"Make  you  wonder  what?"  he  asked  in  his 
quiet,  well  modulated  voice. 

A  flush  came   over  her   face.     Her  eyes 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         153 

shifted  from  his  until  they  rested  upon  the 
grave  at  her  feet.  The  breeze  threw  a  loose 
strand  of  dark  hair  across  one  eye.  She 
rapidly  drew  her  hand  over  her  forehead,  put- 
ting it  away  from  her  vision,  then  looked  full 
and  straight  at  the  man  beside  her. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  cannot  finish  what 
was  in  my  mind  to  say.  I  forgot,  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston, that  we  are  comparative  strangers." 

"  I  am  sorry,  then,  that  you  remember  it,"  he 
replied.  "  It  never  seemed  to  me  that  we  were 
strangers.  Miss  Hathaway.  I  do  not  think  so 
now.  There  is  something,  I  know  not  what, 
that  draws  people  to  each  other  in  this  country. 
It  does  not  take  weeks  or  months  or  years  to 
form  a  friendship  here.  Two  people  meet, 
they  speak,  look  into  one  another's  eyes,  then 
they  are  friends,  comrades — or  nothing,  as  it 
sometimes  happens.  They  decide  quickly  here, 
not  hampered  by  stiff  conventionalities.  It  is 
instinct  guides.  Are  you  different  from  your 
countrymen?" 

"No,"  she  replied  quickly.  "Not  in  that 
one  thing,  at  least.    To  be  honest,  I  have  never 


154         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

felt  that  you  were  a  stranger  to  me ;  but  a  girl, 
even  a  rough  Western  girl,  must  sometimes 
remember  and  be  restricted  by  convention- 
alities. I  know  what  you  are  thinking,  that 
conventionalities  include  politeness,  and  I  have 
been  rude  to  you.  Perhaps  that  is  the  reason 
I  wouldn't  let  you  go  back  to  Harris'  with  me 
the  other  night — I  had  not  known  you  long 
enough. " 

He  answered  her  simply:  "  I  am  not  think- 
ing of  that  night,  but  that  you  have  just  told 
me  you  are  my  friend — that  you  think  kindly 
of  me."     She  flashed  him  a  look  of  surprise. 

"  But  I  never  told  you  that! "  she  exclaimed. 

"Not  in  just  those  words,  true,"  he  said. 
"But  it  is  so.  Didn't  you  say  that  you  had 
never  felt  me  to  be  a  stranger  to  you?  If  you 
had  not  approved  of  me — ^thought  kindly  of 
me  in  the  start,  could  you  have  felt  so?  No. 
When  two  people  meet,  they  are  friends,  or 
they  are  still  strangers — and  you  have  never 
felt  me  to  he  a  stranger.    Is  that  not  so?  '* 

"  I  cannot  deny  what  I  have  just  said,"  she 
replied.    "And  I  will  not  deny  that  I  believed 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         155 

what  I  was  saying,  but  your  argument,  though 
good,  doesn't  down  me,  because  I  honestly 
think  that  a  person  may  see  another  person 
just  once,  feel  that  he  never  could  be  a 
stranger,  and  yet  have  no  earthly  regard  or 
respect  for  that  person." 

"Have  you  ever  experienced  that?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"  N — no.  You  are  trying  to  corner  me ;  but 
that  isn't  what  I  came  to  talk  about,  and  it  is 
time  to  go,"  she  said,  turning  away  from  the 
grave.  He  walked  with  her  down  the  hill 
toward  her  horse. 

*'I  wanted  to  ask  you,  Mr.  Livingston, 
about  the  little  German  girl,"  she  said,  stand- 
ing with  her  back  against  the  side  of  her  horse, 
one  arm  around  the  pommel  loosely  holding  the 
reins,  and  the  other  stretched  upon  the  glossy 
back  of  the  gentle  animal.  "When  are  you 
expecting  her,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  her?" 

"  She  should  be  here  the  last  of  the  week. 
Poor  girl!  My  heart  bleeds  for  her.  There  is 
nothing  to  do  except  to  tell  her  the  sad  story. 


156         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

and  see  that  she  gets  started  safely  back  to  her 
country  and  her  friends,"  he  answered. 

Hope  stood  upright,  taking  a  step  toward 
him. 

"You  would  not — oh,  it  would  be  in- 
human to  send  her  back  over  the  long,  terrible 
journey  with  that  cruel  pain  in  her  heart! 
Think  how  tired  she  will  be,  the  thousands  of 
miles  of  travel  through  strange  lands,  and  the 
multitude  of  foreigners  she  will  have  passed! 
Think  of  the  way  she  has  traveled,  those  close, 
packed  emigrant  cars,  and  everything.  It  is 
terrible!" 

"  I  never  thought  of  that.  She  will  be  tired. 
You  are  right,  it  would  never  do  to  send  her 
over  that  long  journey  so  soon,  though  she 
is  not  coming  through  as  an  emigrant,  but 
first  class,  for  she  is  of  good  family  over  there. 
So  was  Fritz — a  sort  of  cousin,  I  believe,  but 
the  poor  boy  got  into  some  trouble  with  his 
family  and  came  over  here  penniless.  He  was 
to  have  met  her  in  town  and  they  expected  to 
get  married  at  once.  He  was  going  to  bring 
her  out  here  to  the  ranch  to  live  until  he  had 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         157 

hunted  up  a  location  for  a  home.  If  I  am 
not  mistaken  she  has  some  money  of  her  own 
with  which  they  were  going  to  buy  sheep.  She 
has  been  well  educated,  and  has  had  some  in- 
struction in  English,  as  had  Fritz. 

"  I  thought  only  of  getting  her  back  among 
her  friends  again  and  I  never  gave  a  thought 
about  the  long,  weary  trip  and  the  poor,  tired 
girl.  She  must  rest  for  a  time.  You  have 
shown  me  the  right  way,  Miss  Hathaway — 
and  yet,  what  am  I  to  do?  I  could  bring  her 
out  here  to  the  ranch,  but  there  is  no  woman 
on  the  place.  Perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  secure 
a  man  and  his  wife  who  need  a  situation,  but 
it  is  not  likely.  There  may  be  some  good  fam- 
ily about  who  would  keep  her  for  awhile.  Do 
you  know  of  one?  " 

"There  are  several  families  around  here 
who  might  welcome  a  boarder,  but  none  with 
whom  a  girl  of  that  kind  could  be  contented, 
or  even  comfortable.  If  only  I  were  at  home, 
and  could  take  her  there!  I  might  send  her 
over  there.  But,  no,  that  would  be  worse  than 
anything!    There  is  no  other  way,"  she  said 


158         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

suddenly,  placing  her  hand  upon  his  sleeve 
with  a  quick  unconscious  motion.  "  You  must 
let  me  take  care  of  her,  up  here,  as  I  am,  at 
Harris' ! "  Excitement  had  flushed  her  cheeks 
scarlet.  Her  eyes  were  filled  with  the  light  of 
inspiration  and  more  than  earthly  beauty. 
She  waited,  intense,  for  him  to  speak,  but  he 
could  not.  He  felt  her  hand  upon  his  arm, 
saw  the  wonderful  light  in  her  face — and  was 
dumb. 

"  Tell  me  that  I  may  take  care  of  her.  I 
must — there  is  no  other  way,"  she  insisted. 
"And  it  will  give  me  the  privilege  of  doing 
one  little  act  of  kindness.  Say  it  will  be  all 
right!" 

"If  she  cannot  find  comfort  and  strength 
in  you,  she  cannot  fibad  it  upon  earth,"  he  said 
softly.  "I  have  no  words  with  which  to  thank 
you!" 

She  took  her  hand  from  his  arm  with  a  little 
sigh  of  content,  turned  around  and  stood  at 
her  horse's  head  a  moment,  then  mounted  as 
lightly  and  quickly  as  a  boy. 

"Where's  vour  horse?"  she  asked,  whirling 


f 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         159 

the  animal  about  until  it  faced  him.  The  won- 
derful light  in  her  face  had  given  place  to  a 
careless,  light-hearted  look. 

"  Up  at  the  stable.  Have  you  the  time  and 
patience  to  wait  for  me?"  said  Livingston. 

"Plenty  of  patience,  but  no  time,"  she  re- 
plied. "  I  promised  to  meet  one  of  the  twins 
at  six  o'clock,  so  IVe  got  to  hurry  up.  I'll 
meet  you  over  at  Syd's  camp  in  a  little  while." 

Before  he  had  time  to  either  speak  or  bow  she 
was  gone.  As  she  disappeared  behind  tlie 
ledge  of  rocks  a  clear  boyish  whistle  of  some 
popular  air  floated  back  to  him. 

Walking  quickly  through  the  pasture 
toward  the  ranch  buildings  Edward  Living- 
ston thought  of  many  things— and  wondered. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT  six  o'clock  on  this  afternoon  in 
/-%  May  the  sun  was  still  high  above  the 
mountain  tops.  By  the  time  Edward 
Livingston  reached  his  ranch  buildings  and 
saddled  his  horse  to  go  to  Carter's  camp  Hope 
had  ridden  the  two  miles  or  more  between  his 
fence  and  the  school-house.  There  she  found, 
idly  waiting  beside  the  isolated  building,  sur- 
rounded by  several  gaunt  staghounds,  not  one 
of  the  twins,  but  both. 

The  soft-voiced  twin  was  all  smiles,  but 
Dave  with  his  back  against  the  front  of  the 
building  was  scowling  sullenly,  giving  vent  to 
his  ugliness  by  kicking  small  stones  with  the 
toe  of  his  boot  and  watching  them  as  they 
went  sailing  high  into  the  air,  then  down  the 
sloping  stretch  of  young  green  below.  At  one 
of  those  stones  Hope's  horse  shied,  but  the 
girl  smiled,  knowing  full  well  the  young  sav- 

160 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         161 

age's  mood.  She  rode  rapidly,  and  stopped 
beside  the  boys,  but  did  not  dismount. 

"Am  I  late?"  she  inquired  of  the  scowling 
twin.  "  I  see  you  are  on  time  with  the  gun  like 
a  good  boy,  Dave,  and  you've  brought  your 
own  along,  too.  We  won't  do  a  thing  to  those 
chickens  if  we  get  sight  of  them  to-night!" 
She  smiled  at  the  boy,  who  became  a  trifle  more 
amiable;  then  she  turned  to  his  soft- voiced 
twin.    "How  is  it  you're  back  so  soon?" 

He  brushed  a  speck  of  dust  from  his  over- 
alls before  replying,  and  his  voice  was  particu- 
larly sweet. 

"Had  to  come  to  report.  You  see  when 
I  got  there  they  was  just  quittin',  so  I  came 
along  back  with  some  o'  the  fellers.  Didn't  you 
meet  Long  Bill  and  Shorty  Smith  up  the  road 
there  a  piece  when  you  come  along?  "  The  girl 
nodded.  "  Well,  I  come  back  with  them's  far 
as  home;  then  I  saw  Dave  getting  the  guns,  so 
I  thought  I'd  get  mine  an'  come  along,  too. 
Say,  what's  a  gating  gun  ? "  Hope  looked  per- 
plexed for  an  instant,  then  laughed  outright. 

"Oh,    you    mean    a    Gatling    gun!"    She 


162         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

laughed,  then  very  soberly:  "It's  a  terrible 
weapon  of  war — a  wicked  thing.  Why  do 
you  ask?" 

"Oh,  I  just  wanted  to  know,"  replied  the 
boy  evasively.  "I  heard  some  o'  the  men 
talkin'  about  one,  so  I  thought  I'd  ask  you. 
Must  shoot  pretty  fast,  don't  they?  Long 
Bill  was  tellin'  about  one  that  fired  two  thou- 
sand shots  a  second." 

"That  must  have  been  a  terror  of  one!" 
exclaimed  the  girl.  "But  they  don't  shoot 
quite  as  many  as  that,  not  even  in  a  minute, 
but  they  are  bad  enough.  A  few  of  them 
would  simply  perforate  an  army  of  men. 
They're  a  machine  gun,"  she  went  on  to  ex- 
plain. "Just  a  lot  of  barrels  fastened  in  a 
bunch  together  and  turned  by  a  crank  which 
feeds  in  the  cartridges  and  fires  them,  too. 
They  shoot  over  a  thousand  shots  a  minute." 

"I  wish  we'd  'a'  had  one  the  other  night," 
exclaimed  Dave,  waking  at  last  to  a  new  in- 
terest in  life.  "And  I'd  'a'  had  hold  of  the 
crank ! " 

"  Wasn't  it  bad  enough ! "  remonstrated  the 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         168 

girl.  "  Didn't  you  do  enough  damage  to  sat- 
isfy your  savage  soul  for  awhile? " 

"  Shorty  Smith's  got  a  game  leg,"  returned 
the  boy,  gleefully,  "  an'  so's  old  Peter.  Long 
Bill,  he's  got  his  hand  all  done  up  in  a  sling, 
too,  an'  couldn't  go  back  on  the  round-up ! " 

"  I  wonder  how  Bill  done  that,"  mused  the 
other  twin  with  a  sweet,  indrawn  breath.  Hope 
flushed  scarlet,  which  faded  instantly,  leaving 
her  face  its  rich,  dark  olive. 

"  Come  on,"  she  cried  severely,  "  if  we  are  to 
get  any  birds  to-day! " 

"  I  know  where  there's  a  coyote's  den,"  said 
the  soft-voiced  twin.  Dave  was  all  attention 
immediately. 

"Where?"  he  exclaimed  eagerly.  Hope, 
interested,  too,  leaned  forward  resting  her  arm 
upon  the  pommel  of  the  saddle. 

"Well,"  said  the  boy,  deliberately,  sweetly 
— too  sweetly,  thought  the  girl,  who  watched 
him  keenly — "  I  was  goin'  to  keep  it  to  myself, 
an'  get  'em  all  on  the  quiet,  but  it's  in  a  kind 
of  a  bad  place  to  get  at,  so  mebbe  I  can't  do  it 
alone.     It's  'bout  a  half  mile  back  there,  be- 


164         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

tween  here  an'  home,  up  on  that  ridge  behind 
old  Peter's  shack.  There's  a  hole  under  the 
side  of  the  rocks,  but  it's  hard  diggin',  kind  of 
sandstone,  I  reckon.  I  left  a  pickax  an'  shovel 
up  there." 

"Let's  go  up  there  now,"  cried  Dave, 
"  an'  get  the  whole  bloomin'  nest  of  'em!  We 
can  get  the  chickens  later." 

"Now,  look  here,"  said  the  other  quietly. 
"The  find's  mine.  If  you're  in  on  this  here 
deal,  you'll  have  to  work  for  your  share.  If 
you'll  do  the  diggin'  you  can  have  half  of  the 
bounty  on  'em.    How's  that? " 

Dave  grunted.  "  Supposin'  there  ain't  any 
there,"  he  demurred. 

The  soft-voiced  twin  shrugged  his  shoulders 
contemptuously. 

"  What'd  you  suppose  Fd  be  diggin'  there 
for  if  there  wasn't  none?  There's  a  whole 
litter  o'  pups." 

"Come  on,  then!"  exclaimed  Dave,  con- 
vinced of  his  good  fortune,  for  the  bounty  on 
coyotes  was  four  dollars  for  each  and  every 
one. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         165 

Hope  looked  dubiously  at  the  soft-voiced 
twin,  she  thought  of  the  supper  at  Sydney's 
camp,  then  fired  with  the  fun  of  the  thing  rode 
gayly  away  with  the  boys. 

The  hounds  leaped  after  them,  clearing  the 
ground  with  long,  easy  bounds.  The  girl 
watched  them  glide  along,  yelping,  barking, 
filling  the  air  with  their  voices.  Her  horse 
loped  neck  to  neck  with  the  soft-voiced  twin's. 
She  pointed  at  the  dogs,  drawing  the  boy's  at- 
tention to  them. 

"Why  did  you  bring  them?"  she  asked. 
**  They'll  warn  your  old  ones  and  they'll  be  far 
away  by  the  time  we  get  there.  You're  usually 
so  quick-witted,  Dan,  I  wonder  you  did  not 
think  of  it!" 

The  boy  made  no  reply,  but  gave  her  a  look 
filled  with  cunning,  cool  intent. 

So  this  was  his  revenge — ^his  twin  was  to  dig 
into  a  rocky  ledge  for  an  empty  coyote's  den! 
She  marveled  at  the  boy's  deliberate  scheming, 
and  rode  gayly  along  to  see  the  outcome.  To 
this  sort  of  revenge  she  had  no  actual  ob- 
jection. 


166         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

They  rode  up  over  the  top  of  a  high  divide, 
then  followed  down  a  narrow  draw  until  it 
widened  into  a  tiny  basin,  and  there,  in  the 
center  of  vivid  green,  like  a  smooth,  well-kept 
lawn,  nestled  old  Peter's  cabin.  Surrounding 
this  pretty  basin  were  steep,  high  ridges  and 
hills,  smooth-carpeted,  too,  except  the  ever  nar- 
row terraced  "buffalo  trails,"  and  here  and 
there  a  broken  line  where  sharp  crags  of  sand- 
stone jutted  out.  To  the  base  of  one  of  these 
ridges  of  rock,  back  of  the  old  hermit's 
one-roomed  log  shack,  the  soft-voiced  twin 
led  the  way,  followed  closely  by  his  eager 
brother. 

The  twins  left  their  horses  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  and  climbed  up  about  thirty  feet  to  a 
narrow  ledge,  where  a  shovel  and  pickax 
marked  the  small  entrance  of  a  coyote's  den. 

Dave  set  immediately  at  work  plying  the 
pickax  with  vigor,  and  shoveling  out  the  stones 
and  the  hardened  sand  about  the  opening, 
while  his  twin  superintended  the  job  and  occa- 
sionally offered  words  of  encouragement. 

Hope  watched  them  from  below.    Evidently 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         167 

the  soft- voiced  boy  was  enjoying  himself  im- 
mensely. He  sat  on  one  end  of  the  ledge,  his 
blue-overalled  legs  dangling  over  the  side, 
while  Dave  worked  industriously,  hope- 
fully on. 

The  hounds  evidently  had  found  a  trail  of 
some  kind,  for  after  sniffing  about  busily  for 
a  moment  they  made  a  straight  line  along  the 
hill,  disappearing  over  the  high  ridge.  Hope 
watched  them  out  of  sight,  feeling  an  impulse 
to  follow,  but  changed  her  mind  and  rode 
over  to  old  Peter's  cabin  instead.  The  old 
man  limped  to  the  door  and  peered  out  cau- 
tiously. 

He  was  a  squat-figured,  broad-shouldered, 
grizzled  little  man,  with  unkempt  beard  and  a 
shaggy  sheaf  of  iron-gray  hair,  beneath  which 
peered  bright,  shifting  blue  eyes.  He  added 
to  his  natural  stoop-shouldered  posture  by  a 
rude  crutch  of  hasty  manufacture  much  too 
short  for  him,  which  he  leaned  heavily  upon. 
He  opened  the  door  only  wide  enough  to  put 
out  his  head,  which  he  did  cautiously,  holding 
his  hand  upon  the  wooden  latch. 


168         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"How  d'!"  he  said  in  a  deep,  gruff  voice 
that  seemed  to  come  from  somewhere  between 
his  shoulders. 

She  nodded  brightly,  remembering  to  have 
seen  the  old  fellow  around  Harris'. 

"You  have  no  objection  to  our  digging  out 
a  den  of  coyotes  back  here,  have  you?"  she 
asked. 

"Umph!  There  ain't  no  den  'round  here 
that  I  know  about,"  he  repUed,  still  retaining 
his  position  in  the  door. 

"But  see  here,"  pointing  toward  the  side 
hill,  "  the  boys  have  found  one  and  are  at  work 
up  there  right  now." 

"  More  fools  they,  then,"  declared  old  Peter, 
limping  cautiously  outside  the  door.  "  I  cleaned 
out  that  den  three  year  ago,  an'  I  never  knowed 
a  coyote  to  come  an'  live  in  a  place  that'd  been 
monkeyed  with.  Too  much  sense  f  er  that.  I 
always  said  a  coyote  had  more  sense  'n  them 
boys !  Better  go  tell  'em  they'd  as  well  dig  f  er 
water  on  the  top  o'  that  peak.  Miss!"  He 
shook  his  tousled  head  dubiously,  watched  the 
boys  on  the  hill  for  a  moment,  then  limped 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         169 

back  again,  taking  up  his  first  position,  half  in, 
half  out  the  door.  His  attitude  invited  her  to 
be  gone,  but  she  held  in  her  uneasy  horse  and 
proceeded  in  a  friendly  manner  to  encourage 
some  more  deep-seated,  guttural  tones  from  the 
old  man. 

"Do  you  live  here  all  alone?" 

"Humph!  I  reckon  I  do." 

"  Have  you  lived  here  long?  " 

"Reckon  I  have." 

"  Are  those  your  cattle  up  on  the  divide? " 
'     "I  reckon  they  be." 

"  It  must  be  awful  lonesome  for  you  here 
all  by  yourself.  Do  coyotes  or  wolves  trouble 
you  much?     Whoa,  Rowdy!" 

"They're  a  plumb  nuisance,  Miss.  Better 
kill  off  a  few  of  'em  while  you're  here.  I 
reckon  you  kin  use  yer  gun." 

"I  reckon  I  can,  a  little,"  she  replied. 

"When  I  was  in  the  war,"  he  continued, 
"  they  had  some  sharpshooters  along,  but  they 
wan't  no  wimmen  among  'em.  I  reckon  you're 
right  handy  with  a  gun." 

"Who  told  you?"  she  asked  suddenly. 


170         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  I  reckon  I  know  from  the  way  you  hold 
that  'ere  gun." 

Just  then  the  soft-voiced  twin  rode  up  to 
the  cabin.    Hope  accosted  him. 

"Did  you  get  the  coyotes  already?'' 

"  Nope,  Dave's  still  diggin'.  I'm  goin'  home 
er  the  old  man'll  be  huntin'  me  with  the  end  of 
his  rope." 

"  Oh,  you'd  better  stay,"  she  coaxed.  "  Think 
of  the  fun  you'll  miss  when  Dave  gets  into  the 
den.  It's  your  find;  you  ought  to  stay  for 
the  finish." 

"  I'll  stake  you  to  my  share,"  said  the  boy. 
"  He'll  soon  find  all  there  is.  But  I  guess  I'd 
better  be  a-goin'." 

"  Perhaps  you  had,"  Hope  replied,  thought- 
fully; then  she  rode  over  to  the  industrious 
Dave,  while  the  so  ft- voiced  twin  wisely  took  a 
straight  bee-line  across  the  hills  to  his  father's 
ranch. 

This  time  Hope  herself  climbed  the  hill 
to  the  spot  where  the  boy  was  digging. 

"  Dave,  I'm  afraid  there  are  no  coyotes  in 
there,  aren't  you? " 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         171 

He  stopped  work,  wiped  his  brow  with  some- 
thing that  had  once  been  a  red  bandanna 
handkerchief,  then  gravely  eyed  the  girl,  who 
leaned  against  the  rocks  beside  him. 

"But  he  said,"  pondering  in  perplexity. 
"  But  he  said "  He  looked  into  the  rag- 
ged entrance  of  the  hole,  then  at  his  shovel, 
then  up  again  at  the  girl.  "  What  makes  you 
think  there  ain't  no  coyotes  there? " 

She  was  filled  with  sympathy  for  the  boy, 
which  perhaps  he  did  not  deserve,  and  she  had 
recollected  the  supper  at  Sydney's  camp,  and 
concluded  that  this  foolishness  had  gone  far 
enough.  She  coaxed  the  boy  to  leave  it  until 
morning,  but  he  was  obdurate. 

"  No,  I'm  goin'  to  know  if  there's  anything 

in  here  er  not,  an'  if  there  ain't ''    His 

silence  was  ominous;  then  he  set  to  work  again 
with  renew^ed  energy  and  grim  determination. 

She  watched  him  for  awhile,  then  walked  out 
to  the  end  of  the  bulging  sand-rocks  and 
climbed  the  grassy  hill.  When  at  length  she 
reached  the  sunmiit,  the  jagged  rocks  below 
which  labored  the  breed  boy  seemed  but  a  line 


172         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

in  the  smooth  green  of  the  mountain,  while  old 
Peter's  cabin  and  the  setting  of  green  carpeted 
basin  looked  very  small.  On  the  opposite  side 
a  fine  view  presented  itself,  showing,  in  all 
of  Nature's  magnificent  display,  soft  lines  of 
green  ridges,  broken  chains  of  gigantic  rocks, 
narrow  valleys  traced  with  winding,  silvery 
threads  of  rushing  water.  Such  a  picture 
would  hold  the  attention  of  anyone,  but  this 
girl  of  the  West,  of  freedom  and  wildness,  was 
one  with  it — a  part  of  it,  and  not  the  least 
beautiful  and  wonderful  in  this  lavish  display 
of  God's  handiwork. 

She  stood  with  bared  head  upon  a  high  green 
ridge.  A  soft,  gentle  chinook  smoothed  back 
from  her  forehead  the  waving  masses  of  dark 
hair.  Myriads  of  wild  flowers  surrounded  her, 
and  from  the  millions  below  and  about  drifted 
and  mingled  their  combined  fragrance.  The 
great  orb  of  setting  sun  cast  its  parting  rays 
full  on  her  face,  and  lingered,  while  the  val- 
leys below  darkened  into  shadow.  As  the  last 
rays  lighted  up  her  hair  and  departed,  the  yep  I 
yep !  of  the  hounds  attracted  her  attention,  and 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         173 

turning  about  with  quick,  alert  step  she  moved 
out  of  this  picture — forever. 

Standing  upon  a  rocky  ledge  a  hundred 
feet  below  the  summit  of  the  ridge  she 
watched  another  scene,  not  the  quiet  picture 
of  Nature's  benevolent  hand,  but  a  discord  in 
keeping,  yet  out  of  all  harmony  with  it,  in 
which  she  blended  as  naturally  and  completely 
as  she  had  in  the  first.  It  was  a  race  between  a 
little  fleet-footed  coyote  and  half  a  dozen 
mongrel  staghounds ;  they  came  toward  her,  a 
twisting,  turning  streak,  led  by  a  desperate 
gray  animal,  making,  to  all  appearance,  for 
the  very  rocks  upon  which  she  stood.  Not  ten 
yards  behind  the  coyote  a  lank,  slate-colored 
hound,  more  gray  than  stag,  was  closing  in 
inch  by  inch.  The  coyote  was  doing  nobly,  so 
was  the  mongrel  hound,  thought  Hope,  who 
watched  the  race  with  breathless  interest.  The 
yellow  dogs  were  falling  behind,  losing  ground 
at  every  step,  but  the  blue  mongrel  was  spurt- 
ing. On  they  came — on — on,  and  the  girl  in 
a  tremor  of  excitement  lay  flat  down  upon  the 
rocks  and  watched  them.    Her  heart  went  out 


174         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

to  the  dog.  She  had  seen  it  kicked  around  the 
yard  at  Harris',  noticed  it  as  it  slunk  about  for 
its  scanty  food,  and  now  how  nobly  it  was 
doing !  She  wondered  if  any  of  her  thorough- 
breds at  home  could  do  as  well,  and  thought 
not.  The  others  were  straggling  far  behind, 
but  now  the  blue  hound  was  but  two  lengths 
from  the  coyote,  and  its  chances  seemed  small, 
but  on  a  sudden  it  turned  and  made  direct  for 
the  rocks  from  which  the  girl  watched.  That 
instant  the  dog  saw  failure,  and  the  light  of 
determination,  of  victory,  died  from  its  eyes. 
That  same  instant  the  coyote  saw  salvation 
from  a  quick  end  in  the  narrow  crevices  of  rock 
so  near,  and  the  next  it  lay  stone  dead  with  a 
bullet  through  its  brain.  The  gaunt  hound 
bounded  over  its  body,  then  stopped  short,  be- 
wildered, and  eyed  its  fallen  foe.  Then  with 
a  savage  snarl  he  seized  it  by  the  throat  as  if 
to  utterly  demolish  it,  but  the  girl  called  him 
off,  and  somehow,  in  his  dog's  heart,  he  under- 
stood that  the  game  was  not  his. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  the  deepening  shadows  of  the  evening 
Hope  and  the  breed  boy  rode  rapidly 
toward  the  camp,  hungry  for  the  long- 
delayed  supper. 

"  Dan  staked  me  to  his  share  of  the  coyotes, 
so  you  may  have  them,"  said  the  girl. 

"Seven  pups  an'  the  old  one!"  exclaimed 
Dave;  "that's  better'n  huntin'  chickens." 

"And  supper  just  now  is  better  than  any- 
thing," sighed  Hope  to  herself.  The  boy 
heai'd,  but  did  not  reply,  his  mind  being  busy 
with  a  mathematical  problem. 

"  How  much  is  eight  times  four  dollars,  an' 
seventy-five  cents  for  the  hide? "  he  asked. 

"  That's  a  little  example  I'll  let  you  work  out 
for  yourself,"  replied  his  teacher.  "You're 
awfully  stupid  in  arithmetic,  Dave,  and  it's 
too  bad,  for  in  cases  of  coyotes'  bounty  and 
so  forth  it  would  be  a  pretty  good  thing  for 

175 


176         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

you  to  know.  You  hurry  up  and  figure  that 
out,  for  to-morrow  you're  going  to  get  a  hard 
one.  It's  this:  If  a  Gatling  gun  fires  two 
thousand  shots  a  minute  how  many  can  it  fire 
in  half  an  hour?" 

"Whew!  you  don't  expect  anybody  to 
answer  that^  do  you?  "  exclaimed  the  boy. 

"Oh,  that's  easy,"  she  laughed.  "If  you 
can't  figure  it  out  yourself  you  might  ask  old 
Peter  or  Long  Bill,  maybe  they'd  know." 

The  boy  rode  along,  his  thoughts  absorbed 
in  a  brown  study.  At  length  he  sighed  and 
looked  up. 

"Well,  anyway,  it'll  be  enough  to  buy  a 
horse  or  a  new  saddle  with."  Then  as  though 
struck  with  a  sudden  thought  he  asked:  "  Say, 
what  made  Dan  give  you  his  share  of  them 
coyotes?"  She  suppressed  a  faint  inclination 
to  smile. 

"  Perhaps  he  gave  up  as  I  did,  and  thought 
there  was  nothing  there.  Old  Peter  said  he 
knew  there  wasn't.  But  it's  just  possible  Dan 
wanted  to  be  generous.    Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"Not  Dan!"  exclaimed  the  boy.    "There 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         177 

ain't  one  chance  in  a  million  he'd  ever  give  such 
snap  as  that  away!  I  reckon,"  he  concluded 
after  some  studying,  "  he  must  'a'  thought  that 
den  was  empty  an'  was  goin'  to  pay  me  back. 
Ain't  I  got  it  on  him  now,  though! " 

"And  instead  of  being  paid  back  you  are 
getting  both  shares  of  the  coyote  bounty,  and 
you  know  you  don't  deserve  it.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  about  it?  " 

"  You  bet  he  ain't  agoin'  to  get  none  of  it! " 
was  the  emphatic  reply;  to  which  the  girl  had 
nothing  to  say. 

In  a  few  moments  they  came  in  sight  of 
Sydney's  camp.  From  out  of  the  small  stove- 
pipe of  the  first  of  the  two  tents  rolled  a  vol- 
ume of  smoke,  and  across  the  narrow  brush- 
covered  valley  came  the  delicious  odor  of  cook- 
ing food.  Simultaneously  the  two  riders 
urged  on  their  horses  to  a  faster  gait,  for  Hope 
at  least  was  hungry.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the 
breed  boy  was  in  the  same  condition,  and  this 
invitation  out  to  supper  pleased  him  mightily. 
He  was  a  large,  stolidly  built  lad  of  fourteen 
years,  and  like  all  boys  of  that  age,  whether 


178         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

stolidly  built  or  slender  as  a  sapling,  was 
always  hungry. 

"  I'll  bet  I  can  eat  the  whole  shootin'  match," 
he  declared,  actually  believing  that  he  spoke 
the  truth. 

"I  think  the  meal  is  prepared  for  hungry 
people,"  repUed  Hope,  heartily  agreeing  with 
the  boy's  sentiments.  "  And  I  hope  they  have 
waited  for  us.  But  for  goodness'  sake  be 
careful  not  to  make  yourself  sick,  Dave!" 

The  camp  was  pitched  in  an  open  flat  beside 
a  small  sparkling  mountain  stream.  Upon 
one  side  of  the  creek  was  brush-covered  bottom 
land,  through  which  the  riders  followed  a 
winding  trail,  dim  in  the  semi-darkness.  Then 
they  splashed  across  the  creek,  and  rode  up  its 
steep  bank  into  the  clear,  grass-covered  govern- 
ment dooryard  of  the  campers. 

"Well,  at  last!"  called  a  voice  from  the 
tent.  "  The  posse  was  just  getting  ready  to  go 
in  search  of  you.  Thought  the  chickens  must 
have  lured  you  away.  Come  right  in,  the  feast 
is  prepared ! " 

"All  right,  Syd,"  called  the  girl  happily. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         179 

dismounting  almost  in  the  arms  of  old  Jim 
McCuUen,  her  dear  "father  Jim,"  to  whom 
she  gave  the  heartiest  handshake  he  had  ever 
received. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you're  back!"  she  ex- 
claimed as  he  led  her  horse  away  to  stake  it 
out.  "How's  everjrthing  at  home — ^the  dogs 
and  horses,  and  everything?  Never  mind  the 
people!  I  don't  want  to  hear  a  single  thing 
about  them!  We're  late,  Syd,"  she  apologized, 
as  her  cousin  held  open  the  tent  flap  for  her  to 
enter,  "  but  oh,  we've  had  such  a  stack  of  fun ! " 

She  greeted  the  little  English  cook,  an  old 
acquaintance,  who  beamed  with  smiles  as  she 
entered.  Then  she  cast  her  dark  eyes  about 
the  tent  and  encountered  those  of  Livingston. 

"We  were  beginning  to  fear  for  your 
safety,  Miss  Hathaway,"  he  said  to  her,  then 
wondered  why  she  should  laugh.  And  she  did 
laugh  loudly,  with  a  clear,  sweet,  reverberant 
ring  that  echoed  through  the  little  valley.  Be- 
fore it  had  died  away  her  face  settled  back 
into  its  natural  quiet.  She  threw  her  cowboy's 
hat  into  a  far  corner,  and  seated  herself  on  a 


180         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

case  of  canned  goods  opposite  Livingston,  to 
whom  she  immediately  devoted  herself. 

She  was  not  bold,  this  slender,  well-built  girl 
of  the  prairies, — no  one  who  knew  her  could 
conceive  such  an  idea, — ^but  she  moved  with  a 
forwardness,  a  certain  freedom  of  manner  that 
was  her  own  divine  right.  Whatever  she  did, 
whatever  she  said,  appeared  right  in  her — in 
another  less  graceful,  less  charming,  less  mag- 
netic, it  would  in  many  instances  seem  gross 
boldness.  But  with  her  wonderful,  forceful 
personality  whatever  she  did  or  said  was  the 
embodiment  of  grace  and  right. 

Many  of  her  acquaintances  aped  her  ways 
and  little  peculiarities  of  speech,  to  the  utter 
ruination  of  any  originality  or  fascination 
they  may  have  themselves  possessed,  for  such 
originality  cannot  be  imitated. 

She  leaned  nearer  to  Livingston. 

"  You  should  have  been  with  us — ^we've  had 
a  great  time!  Just  think,  we  got  eight  coy- 
otes!   Isn't  that  fine  for  one  evening? " 

"  Indeed,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  think  that  re- 
markable!   Your  cousin  said  that  something 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         181 

of  the  kind  was  keeping  you.  I  take  it  that 
you  are  passionately  fond  of  hunting." 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  greatest  sport  there  is  in  this 
country,  and  where  the  hunting  is  good,  as  it 
is  at  home  along  the  Missouri  River,  there  is 
nothing  like  it.  But  up  here  there  is  really  no 
game  to  speak  of,  though  the  mountains  at 
one  time  abounded  with  it.  Even  chickens  are 
as  hard  to  find  as  a  needle  in  a  haystack.  We 
found  a  den  of  coyotes,  seven  little  ones,  and 
one  of  the  old  ones  we  got  with  the  help  of  the 
dogs.  You  know,"  she  said  confidentially,  "  I 
shouldn't  have  delayed  this  supper  for  any- 
thing less  than  a  den  of  coyotes." 

"There  won't  be  the  sign  of  any  kind  of 
game  left  up  here  by  the  time  she  leaves," 
remarked  Sydney,  taking  a  seat  on  the  ground 
beside  her. 

"  I  heard  tell  as  how  she  was  try  in'  to  make 
a  clearance,"  said  old  Jim  McCuUen  from  the 
entrance. 

She  flashed  him  a  quick  look  of  surprise. 
He  answered  it  with  a  barely  perceptible 
squint,  which  she  understood  from  years  of 


182         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

comradeship  to  mean  that  he  shared  her  secret. 
It  meant  more  than  that.  He  not  only  shared 
her  secret,  but  his  right  hand — his  hf  e — was  at 
her  disposal,  if  necessary.  Then,  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  silent  message  she  gave  him 
one  of  her  rare,  glorious  smiles. 

"You  did  make  a  pretty  lively  clearing," 
said  her  cousin.  "  Eight  coyotes  isn't  so  bad. 
That  means  numerous  calves  saved,  young 
colts,  a  hundred  or  so  sheep,  not  to  mention 
innumerable  wild  birds  and  barnyard  fowl." 

"Truly,  it  makes  us  feel  like  conquerors, 
doesn't  it,  Dave?  But  we're  famished,  Sydl" 
Then  placing  her  seat  beside  the  table  she 
motioned  the  others  to  join  her,  and  soon 
they  were  enjoying  a  remarkably  good  camp 
supper. 

The  cook  bustled  about  the  tent,  pouring 
out  coffee,  apologizing,  praising  this  dish  or 
that,  and  urging  them  to  partake  of  more,  all 
in  one  breath. 

Sydney  and  his  friend  Livingston  kept  up 
the  conversation,  to  which  Hope  listened,  too 
contented  and  happy  with  the  meal,  the  hour, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         183 

and  the  company  to  enter  it  herself.  She 
finally  pushed  back  her  plate,  congratulated 
the  cook  upon  the  success  of  his  supper,  and 
gave  the  twin  a  warning  look,  which  he  com- 
pletely ignored. 

"  Here,  take  another  piece  o'  this  pie,"  said 
the  cook,  who  had  intercepted  the  girl's  glance. 
At  this  invitation  the  boy  helped  himself  with 
alacrity,  and  with  a  broad  smile  the  cook  con- 
tinued: "I  never  knowed  a  boy  yet  to  kill 
himself  eatin'.  You  can  fill  'em  plumb  full  to 
the  brim,  an'  in  a  'alf  hour  they're  lookin'  f er 
more.  All  the  same,  dog  er  Injun,  halways 
hungry;  an'  a  boy's  just  the  same." 

"  Eat  all  you  want,  youngster,  you're  not  in 
school  now,"  said  Carter.  "I  have  a  slight 
recollection  myself  of  a  time  when  I  had  an 
appetite." 

"  I  failed  to  notice  anything  wrong  with  it 
to-night,  Sydney,"  remarked  the  girl. 

"  There's  nothin'  like  a  happetite,"  observed 
the  cook.  "Did  you's  ever  hear  the  meaning 
hoff  the  word?  This  is  how  hit  was  told  to 
me/'     He    stood    before   them    emphasizing 


184         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

each  word  with  a  forward  shake  of  his  first 
finger.  "  H-a-p-p-y,— happy,— t-i-t-e,  tight, 
—  happy  — tite  — that's  right,  ain't  hit? 
When  you're  heatin'  hall  you  want  you're 
tight,  an'  then  you're  happy,  ain't  you?  An' 
that's  what  hit  means, — chappy-tight." 

Whether  this  observation  of  the  small  Eng- 
lish cook's  was  original  or  not  those  present 
had  no  way  of  ascertaining.  But  since  this 
was  but  a  sample  of  the  many  observations  he 
aired  each  day,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
it  originated  in  his  fertile  brain. 

"I  think  there's  no  doubt  about  that 
being  the  true  derivation  of  the  word,"  said 
Hope.  "  In  fact,  I  am  sure  it  is.  Isn't  it, 
Dave?" 

"I  don't  know  nothin'  about  it,"  said  the 
boy,  looking  up  from  his  last  bite  of  pie ;  then 
giving  a  deep  sigh  he  reluctantly  moved  away 
from  the  table. 

"  Well,  I  can  guarantee  that  you're  happy," 
said  Hope,  "  and  that  is  a  positive  demonstra- 
tion of  the  truth  of  William's  observation. 
But    now    we    must    go,"    she    said,    rising 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         185 

abruptly  and  picking  up  her  hat  from  the 
corner  of  the  tent. 

"You  haven't  been  here  a  half  hour  yet, 
Hopie,  but  I  suppose  I  must  be  thankful  for 
small  favors,"  deplored  Carter. 

"I've  had  my  supper, — a  nice  one,  too, — 
and  that's  what  I  came  for,  Syd,  dear,"  said 
the  girl.  "And  if  I  may,  I  will  come  again, 
until  you  and  dear  old  Jim  both  get  tired 
of  me." 

"Get  tired — fiddlesticks!"  exclaimed  Mc- 
CuUen,  while  Sydney  laughed  a  little,  and  left 
the  tent  to  saddle  her  horse.  The  breed  boy 
followed  him ;  then  Livingston,  too,  was  about 
to  leave  when  McCuUen  stopped  him. 

"Just  stay  in  here  by  the  fire  and  talk  to 
Hopie  till  we  get  your  horses,"  he  said, 
abruptly  leaving  them  together. 

The  girl  drew  nearer  the  stove. 

"It's  quite  chilly  out  this  evening,"  she 
remarked. 

"  That  is  the  beauty  of  the  nights  in  this 
northern  country,"  he  rephed,  coming  near  to 
her. 


186         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"Why,  we're  alone,"  she  observed.  "I 
wonder  where  William  went ! " 

"I  didn't  notice  his  disappearance,"  he 
rephed.  "But  we  are  alone — together.  Are 
you  not  frightened?" 

"Frightened?  No!"  she  said  softly. 
"Why?" 

"A  senseless  remark.  Do  not  notice  it — or 
anything,  I  beg  of  you.  I  am  quite  too  happy 
to  weigh  my  words." 

"Then  you  have  proved  the  cook's  theory 
correct;  providing  you  have  eaten  —  sufl9- 
ciently,"  she  replied.  They  both  smiled,  and 
darts  of  light  from  the  stove  played  about 
their  faces. 

"Will  you  allow  me — ^this  night — ^to  ride 
home  with  you?"  he  asked,  watching  the  fan- 
tastic shadows  upon  her  face  and  catching 
gleams  of  her  deep  eyes  as  they  occasionally 
sought  his  own. 

She  hesitated  a  moment  before  replying. 

"You  think  me  a  strange  girl,"  she  said. 
"  I  wonder  what  you  will  think  of  me  now  if  I 
refuse  this." 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         187 

"I  think  nothing  except  that  you  are  the 
sweetest  girl  I  have  ever  known — and  the 
noblest.  I  thank  my  Maker  for  having  met 
you,  and  spoken  with  you,  and  sat  here  in  the 
firelight  beside  you!  Your  ways  are  your 
own.  I  shall  not — cannot  question  you,  or 
impose  myself  upon  you.  Our  lives,  it  seems, 
lie  far  apart.  But  I  cannot  help  it — the 
words  burn  themselves  out — I  love  you,  Hope 
— I  love  you!  Forgive  me!"  He  raised  her 
hand  to  his  lips  and  left  her  standing  alone 
in  the  firelight. 

"He  loves  me,"  she  thought,  far  into  the 
quiet  hours  of  the  night.  "  He  loves  me,  and 
yet  he  ran  away  from  met " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

I  ATE  one  afternoon  during  the  follow- 
ing week  Livingston  drove  up  to 
-^  Harris'  ranch  and  helped  from  his 
buggy  a  small,  fair-haired  girl  who  looked 
with  wonderment  at  the  squalid  log  buildings, 
the  squealing,  scurrying  pigs  and  children, 
and  the  usual  group  of  roughly  dressed  men 
waiting  for  their  supper.  The  pain  in  her 
eyes  deepened,  and  she  clasped  Livingston's 
arm  hke  a  frightened  child. 

"  Oy  mein  Freundj  I  fearl"  she  cried,  draw- 
ing back. 

"Come,"  he  urged  gently.  "There  is 
nothing  to  fear.  You  must  trust  me,  for  I  am 
indeed  your  friend,  little  girl.  We  will  find 
the  one  who  is  expecting  you — who  will  love 
you  and  be  a  sister  to  you." 

A  look  of  trustful  obedience  came  into  her 

188 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         189 

sweet  blue  eyes,  now  disfigured  by  much 
weeping,  and  without  hesitation  she  walked 
beside  him  past  the  group  of  rough-looking 
men,  dirty,  barefooted  children,  scurrying  pigs 
and  dogs,  to  the  kitchen  door. 

An  Indian  woman  with  a  baby  in  her  arms 
stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  room  and  motioned 
them  to  enter. 

"Is  Miss  Hathaway  here?"  inquired  Liv- 
ingston. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  door  of  an 
inner  room  opened  and  Hope,  her  slender 
form  gowned  as  he  had  first  seen  her,  came 
quickly  across  the  untidy  room  toward 
them. 

"I  am  Hope,"  she  said  to  the  girl,  taking 
both  of  her  soft  little  hands  in  her  own  and 
looking  in  wonder  at  the  childish  face  with  its 
setting  of  wavy  gold  hair.  Suddenly  the 
broken-hearted  girl  was  in  her  arms  sobbing 
out  her  grief  upon  her  shoulder.  Hope  led 
her  to  a  seat,  removed  her  hat  and  coat,  and 
uttered  words  of  endearment  to  her,  soothing 
her  as  she  would  have  done  a  child. 


190         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

Could  this  impulsive,  loving  girl  be  Hope, 
wondered  Livingston,  who  still  stood  in  the 
doorway.  She  smoothed  back  the  bright  hair 
from  the  pretty,  childish  face,  exclaiming: 

"  How  beautiful  you  are!  And  what  a  little 
thing  to  have  such  a  grief!  Oh,  it  is  cruel, 
cruel!  Cry,  dear,  cry  all  you  want  to — it  will 
do  you  good,  and  the  pain  will  sooner  be 
gone." 

''  O,  Gott  im  Himmeir  sobbed  the  German 
girl,  "  gieh  mir  Muth  es  zu  ertragen!" 

"But  you  are,  oh,  so  much  braver  than  I. 
Look  at  me,  see  what  a  great,  big  strong  thing 
I  am,  and  I  moaned  and  cried  because  the 
world  wasn't  made  to  my  Uking !  Oh,  it  makes 
me  ashamed  now,  when  I  see  such  a  little,  frail 
thing  as  you  suffer  such  a  real  sorrow!  But  I 
am  your  friend — your  sister,  if  you  will  have 
me." 

"  How  goot  you  are,  meine  liebe  Freundin! " 
sobbed  the  girl. 

"May  you  never  have  reason  to  change 
your  opinion,"  replied  Hope  slowly,  in  Ger- 
man. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         191 

"  She  speaks  my  language  I "  exclaimed  the 
German  girl,  with  something  like  hopefulness 
in  her  voice. 

"  But  very  poorly,"  apologized  Hope,  look- 
ing for  the  first  time  at  the  man  standing 
quietly  in  the  doorway. 

"It  will  comfort  her  that  you  speak  it  at 
all,"  he  replied.  "  But  without  any  language 
you  would  still  be  a  comfort  to  her.  I  will 
leave  her  in  your  hands.  Miss  Hathaway.  She 
has  had  a  long  journey  and — must  be  very 
tired."  He  bowed  and  turned  to  go,  but, 
recollecting  something,  came  back  into  the 
room.  "I  am  going  now,"  he  said  to  the 
German  girl,  "but  I  will  come  to  see  you 
often.  You  need  have  no  fear  when  you  are 
with — Hope." 

Hope  turned  to  him  impulsively. 

"You  will  do  as  you  say,"  she  begged. 
"You  will  come  often  to  see  her."  Then 
added,  "You  know  she'll  be  terribly  lonely 
at  first  1" 

"  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure,  if  I  may," 
he  replied. 


192         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  If  you  may!  Are  you  not  master  of  your 
own  actions?    Good-byl" 

She  took  her  hand  from  his  firm  clasp  with 
something  like  a  jerk,  and  found  herself  blush- 
ing furiously  as  she  turned  to  the  little  Ger- 
man girl. 

As  far  as  anyone  could  be  made  comfort- 
able in  the  Harris  home  Hope  made  her  little 
charge  so.  She  shared  her  room,  her  bed 
with  her,  took  her  to  school  each  day  and  kept 
her  constantly  at  her  side. 

She  was  a  simple,  trusting  German  girl, 
bright,  and  extremely  pretty,  and  her  name 
was  Louisa  Schulte.  From  the  first  she  had 
loved  Hope  with  an  affection  that  was  as 
touching  as  it  was  beautiful,  and  as  she  came 
to  know  her  better,  day  by  day  her  love  and 
admiration  grew  akin  to  worship.  She  be- 
Heved  her  to  be  the  most  wonderful  girl  that 
ever  lived,  in  some  respects  fairly  superhuman. 
She  marveled  at  the  skill  with  which  she  could 
ride  and  shoot,  and  her  wisdom  in  Western 
lore.      And    behind    every    accomplishment, 


Harris  and  His  Friends. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         193 

every  word  and  act,  Louisa  read  her  heart, 
which  no  one  before  had  ever  known. 

So  finding  in  the  bereaved  girl,  who  had  so 
strangely  come  into  her  life,  the  sympathy 
and  love  for  which  she  had  vainly  searched  in 
one  of  her  own  sex,  Hope  gave  her  in  return 
the  true  wealth  of  a  sister's  heart. 

For  some  time  after  Louisa's  arrival  Hope 
was  with  her  almost  constantly,  but  the  inac- 
tive life  began  to  tell  upon  her.  Her  eyes 
would  light  up  with  an  involuntary  longing  at 
the  sight  of  the  breed  boys  racing  over  the 
hills  upon  their  ponies. 

"Why  don't  you  go?"  asked  the  German 
girl,  one  morning,  reading  her  friend  with  ob- 
servant eyes  as  the  boys  started  out  for  a 
holiday. 

It  was  a  beautiful  warm  Saturday  morning. 
The  two  girls  were  sitting  on  a  pile  of  logs 
by  the  side  of  the  road  sunning  themselves, 
far  enough  away  from  the  Harris  house  and 
its  surroundings  to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  a  per- 
fect day. 

"I  would  rather  stay  here  with  you,"  re- 


194         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

plied  Hope,  arranging  a  waving  lock  which 
the  wind  had  displaced  from  Louisa's  golden 
tresses.  "When  the  horse  comes  that  I  have 
sent  for,  and  you  have  learned  to  ride  better, 
we  will  go  all  over  these  mountains  together. 
I  will  show  you  Sydney's  camp  and  take  you 
to  old  Peter's  cabin,  and  let  you  see  where 
we  found  the  den  of  coyotes.  We  will  go 
everywhere  then,  and  have  such  a  good 
timel" 

Louisa  looked  at  her  tenderly,  but  her  eyes 
were  filled  with  the  pain  of  a  great  sorrow. 

"  O,  FrduleiUj  you  are  goot,  so  goot  to  me  I 
If  I  may  ask,  not  too  much,  I  wish  to  see 
where  Ues  mein  lieber  Fritz.  I  vill  weep  no 
more — then.  Ven  I  sleep  the  dreams  come  so 
much.  If  I  could  see  once  the  place  it  would 
be  better,  nicht  wahr?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Hope,  "it  is  a  lovely  spot 
and  you  shall  see  it.  Mr.  Livingston  could 
not  have  found  a  more  beautiful  place.  Just 
now  it  is  all  a  mass  of  flowers  and  green  grass 
as  far  as  you  can  see,  and  behind  it  is  a  great 
high  jagged  wall  of  stone.    It  is  beautiful!" 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         195 

"Mr.  Livingston  is  a  good,  true  man," 
mused  Louisa,  lapsing  into  German,  which 
Hope  followed  with  some  difficulty.  "He 
was  very  kind  to  my  poor  Fritz,  who  loved 
him  dearly.  His  letters  were  filled  with  his 
praises.  It  was  of  him,  of  the  beautiful  coun- 
try, and  our  love  of  which  he  always  wrote. 
He  was  a  good  boy,  Frdulein." 

"Tell  me  about  him,"  said  Hope,  adding 
hastily,  "  if  you  feel  like  it.  I  would  love  to 
hear." 

Hope  could  not  have  suggested  a  wiser 
course,  for  to  speak  of  a  grief  or  trouble  wears 
oif  its  sharp  edges. 

"  He  was  a  good  boy,"  replied  Louisa.  "  I 
cannot  see  why  God  has  taken  him  from  this 
beautiful  place,  and  from  me.  It  has  been 
a  year,  now,  since  I  last  saw  him.  He  left  in 
a  hiu*ry.  He  had  never  spoken  of  love  until 
that  day,  nor  until  he  told  me  of  it  did  I 
know  that  it  was  real  love  I  had  so  long  felt 
for  him.  We  grew  up  together.  He  was  my 
cousin.  I  had  other  cousins,  but  he  was  ever 
my  best  companion — ^my  first  thought.     He 


196         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

came  to  me  that  day  and  said:  *  Louisa,  I  am 
going  far  away  from  here  to  the  free  Amer- 
ica. It  breaks  my  heart  to  leave  you.  Will 
you  promise  to  some  day  join  me  there  and 
be  my  wife? '  I  promised  him,  and  then  cried 
much  because  he  was  going  so  far.  It  was 
even  worse  than  the  army,  I  thought,  and 
somehow  it  held  a  strange  dread  for  me.  But 
Fritz  would  not  think  of  the  army.  His  eldest 
brother  returned,  and  as  head  of  the  family  all 
the  money  went  to  him.  My  aunt  married 
again.  Her  husband  is  a  wholesale  merchant 
of  wines.  He  gave  Fritz  a  position  in  his 
warehouse,  but  very  soon  they  quarreled.  He 
seemed  not  to  like  Fritz.  Then  there  was 
nothing  for  the  poor  boy  but  the  army,  or  far 
America.  I  could  not  blame  him  when  he 
chose  freedom.  The  lot  of  the  youngest  son 
is  not  always  a  happy  one.  A  friend  who  had 
been  here  told  all  about  this  great  country  and 
the  good  opportunities,  so  he  came.  His  let- 
ters were  so  beautiful!  I  used  to  read  them 
over  and  over  until  the  paper  was  worn  and 
would  break  in  pieces.     For  a  whole  year  I 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         197 

waited,  and  planned,  and  lived  on  the  letters 
and  my  dreams,  then  filled  with  happiness  I 
started  to  him.  To  think  that  I  have  come 
to  the  end  of  this  long,  strange  journey  to  a 
foreign  land  to  see  but  his  grave  I  Oh,  God  in 
heaven,  help  me  be  brave ! " 

"There  is  no  death,"  said  Hope,  rising 
abruptly  from  the  log  upon  which  she  had 
been  sitting  and  standing  erect  before  Louisa, 
her  dark  commanding  eyes  forcing  the  atten- 
tion of  the  grief-stricken  girl.  "  I  know  there 
is  no  death.  I  feel  it  with  every  throb  of  my 
pulse — in  every  atom  of  my  being !  I  and  my 
body! — I  and  my  hody!"  she  continued  im- 
pressively. "  How  distinct  the  two !  Can  the 
death  of  this  lump  of  clay  change  the  I  that  is 
really  myself?  Can  anything  exterminate 
the  living  me?  Every  throb  of  my  whole 
being  tells  me  that  I  am  more  than  this  perish- 
able flesh — that  I  am  more  than  time  or  place 
or  condition  or  death!  I  believe,  like  the 
Indians,  that  when  we  are  freed  from  this 
husk  of  death — this  perishing  flesh,  that  the 
we,  as  we  truly  are,  is  like  a  prisoner  turned 


198         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

loose — ^that  then  only  do  we  realize  what  life 
really  means." 

Louisa's  innocent  eyes  were  intent  upon  her 
as  she  strove  to  grasp  the  full  meaning  of  the 
English  words. 

"  Ich  weiss;  es  ist  wahr/'  she  replied  softly, 
''  aher  wenn  der  Kummer  so  frisch  istj  dann  ist 
es  unmoglich  in  dent  Gedanken  Trost  zu 
finden/^ 

"  I  should  have  said  nothing,"  said  Hope  in 
contrition,  seating  herself  upon  the  log  pile 
again. 

"Nein,  my  dear,  dear  friend!  I  have  now 
dis  misery,  but  I  belief  you.  Somedimes 
your  vords  vill  help — vat  you  calls  'em — vill 
soothe  J  und  I  vill  be  better." 

"  Then  it's  all  right,"  said  Hope,  jumping 
from  the  logs  and  giving  her  hand  to  Louisa 
to  assist  her  down.     "  Let's  walk  a  little." 

They  went  slowly  up  the  road  toward  the 
school-house,  and  had  not  proceeded  far  when 
they  met  Livingston  driving  toward  them  in 
an  open  buggy. 

Hope  waved  her  hand  to  him  and  hastened 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         199 

forward,  while  Louisa  smiled  upon  him  the 
faintest  of  dimpled  greetings,  then  drew 
back  to  the  side  of  the  road  while  the  girl 
of  the  prairies  stepped  up  to  the  side  of  his 
buggy. 

"You  haven't  kept  your  word  very  well," 
she  said.  "  We  have  seen  you  only  twice,  and 
Louisa  has  wondered  many  times  what  has 
been  keeping  you.  Isn't  that  so,  Louisa?" 
she  nodded  at  the  girl.  "  I  am  glad  you  have 
come  this  morning,  because  I  want  to  ask  you 
a  favor." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  he  replied. 

"You  know  Louisa  hasn't  learned  to  ride 
yet,  and  Harris'  have  no  other  way  of  con- 
veyance, so  I  wanted  to  ask  you  to  take 
her  in  your  buggy — ^to  see  Fritz's  grave." 
The  last  few  words  were  added  below  her 
breath. 

"  I  came  this  morning  to  ask  you  if  she  did 
not  wish  to  see  it,"  he  replied.  "  It  might  be 
good  for  her." 

"Of  course  you  should  be  the  first  one  to 
think  of  itl "  she  said  quickly,  shading  her  eyes 


200         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

with  her  hand  to  look  down  the  long,  crooked 
stretch  of  road.  "  I  didn't  think  of  it  at  all 
myself.  She  has  just  asked  me  if  she  might 
see  it.  All  the  virtues  are  yours  by  right,"  she 
continued,  showing,  as  she  again  faced  him,  a 
flash  of  her  strong  white  teeth.  "And  the 
funny  part  of  it  is,  I  think  I  am  getting  jeal- 
ous of  the  very  virtues  you  possess ! " 

"You  should  see  with  my  eyes  awhile,"  he 
replied,  "and  you  would  have  no  cause  for 
jealousy." 

"I  do  not  know  jealousy  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  the  word — that  was  entirely  left  out 
of  my  make-up,  but  for  once  I  covet  the  attri- 
butes of  thoughtfulness  that  should  be  in- 
grained in  every  woman's  nature." 

When  she  had  spoken  he  seemed  struggling 
for  an  instant  with  some  strong  emotion. 
Without  replying  he  stepped  from  his  buggy 
and  walked  to  the  heads  of  his  horses,  presum- 
ably to  arrange  some  part  of  the  harness. 

Livingston  struggled  to  keep  back  the 
words  which  sprang  to  his  lips.  He  loved  the 
girl  with  all  the  strength  of  his  nature.    Her 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         201 

whole  attitude  toward  him  artlessly  invited 
him  to  speak,  but  his  manhood  forbade  it. 

He  was  a  puzzle,  she  thought,  impatiently. 
Why  did  he  not  make  a  little  effort  to  woo  her, 
after  having  declared  his  love  in  no  uncertain 
manner?  She  was  not  sure  that  she  wanted 
to  receive  his  advances  if  he  should  make  any, 
but  why  did  he  not  make  them?  She  knew 
that  she  was  interested  in  him,  and  she  knew, 
also,  that  she  was  piqued  by  his  apparent  in- 
difference. She  knew  he  was  like  a  smolder- 
ing volcano,  and  she  had  all  a  girl's  curiosity 
to  see  it  burst  forth;  but  with  the  thought 
came  a  regret  that  their  acquaintance  would 
then  be  at  an  end. 

"  I  can  take  you  both  up  there  now,  if  you 
wish,"  he  said,  coming  around  to  the  side  of 
the  buggy.  "  The  seat  is  wide  and  I  do  not 
think  you  will  be  uncomfortable." 

Hope  had  turned  her  eyes  once  more  down 
the  narrow,  winding  stretch  of  gray  toward 
the  Harris  ranch. 

"I  think  I  will  not  go,"  she  replied,  still 
peering  ahead  from  under  the  shade  of  her 


202         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

hand.  "Yes,  I  am  sure  now  that's  Sydney. 
See,  just  going  into  the  corral.  Jim  was  to 
have  brought  me  an  extra  saddle  horse  to-day, 
but  Sydney  has  come  instead,  so  I'll  go  back. 
Louisa  can  go  alone  with  you."  She  motioned 
to  the  girl.  "  Come,  Louisa,  Mr.  Livingston 
wants  to  take  you  for  a  little  drive.  I  will  be 
down  there  at  the  house  when  you  come  back." 
The  girl  understood  enough  of  their  con- 
versation to  know  where  she  was  expected  to 
go.  Obediently,  trustfully,  with  one  loving 
glance  at  Hope,  she  climbed  into  the  buggy 
beside  Livingston  and  was  soon  riding  rapidly 
up  the  mountain  road  to  the  grave  of  her 
sweetheart. 


CHAPTER  XV 

HOPE'S  anxiety  to  reach  the  ranch 
could  not  have  been  great,  for  she 
walked  slowly  along  the  dark,  gray 
stretch  of  road,  vaguely  dreaming  the  while, 
and  offering  excuses  to  herself  for  not  having 
accepted  Livingston's  invitation.  She  man- 
aged to  find  several  reasons.  First,  it  would 
have  been  too  crowded;  second,  Sydney  had 
brought  the  horse,  and  was  probably  waiting 
to  see  her;  third,  she  had  no  particular  desire 
to  go,  because  he  had  so  obviously  wanted  her 
to  do  so.  Finally,  after  weighing  all  her  ex- 
cuses, she  was  obliged  to  admit  that  the  only 
thing  that  really  troubled  her  was  Livingston's 
evident  unconcern  at  her  refusal  to  accompany 
them. 

She  had  reached  a  point  in  her  life  where 
self -analysis  was  fast  becoming  an  interesting 

203 


204         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

study.  At  present  it  struck  her  as  being  amus- 
ing. 

The  clatter  of  hoofs  and  a  wild  whoop 
brought  her  out  of  her  absorbing  study,  as 
down  the  nearest  side-hill  the  twins  raced  pell- 
mell,  the  pinto  pony  leading  the  stylish  Dude 
by  half  a  length.  They  drew  up  suddenly  in 
the  road  beside  her. 

"Now  you  can  see  fer  yourself  that  that 
Dude  cayuse  of  Dave's  ain't  in  it  with  my 
pinto!"  exclaimed  the  soft-voiced  twin. 

"What'er  you  givin'  us!"  shouted  Dave. 
"Just  hear  him  brag  about  that  spotted  cay- 
use of  his'n!  'Twasn't  no  even  race  at  all. 
He  had  'bout  a  mile  the  start!" 

"Oh,  come  off  your  perch!"  retorted  the 
other  sweetly. 

"Where  are  you  boys  going? "  asked  Hope. 

"  Nowheres.  We  seen  you  from  the  top  of 
the  divide,  an'  I  thought  I'd  just  show  you 
what  was  in  Pinto.  He's  all  right — you  bet! 
Ain't  you,  old  man? "  said  the  boy,  pulling  his 
pony's  mane  affectionately. 

"Oh,  I  wasn't  tryin'  to  show  off!"  ex- 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         205 

claimed  Dave.  "  But  just  give  me  a  level  road 
an'  I'll  beat  you  all  to  pieces! " 

"  Where  have  you  been? "  inquired  Hope. 

The  boys  looked  at  each  other  in  a  sheepish 
manner. 

"I'm  going  to  guess,"  said  the  girl  suspi- 
ciously, "  and  if  I  am  right  you'll  have  to  own 
up.  In  the  first  place  your  father  sent  you  out 
to  bring  in  those  cows  and  calves  over  near  old 
Peter's  basin.  Instead  of  that  you  went  on 
farther  and  found  a  camp.  You  went  in  one 
of  the  tents  and  ate  some  dried  blackberry 
pie,  instead  of  bringing  in  the  cattle.  Now, 
isn't  that  so?" 

Dave  looked  dumfounded. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  knew  that  when  you 
wasn't  along!  Gee,  you  must  know  things 
like  grandmother  White  Blanket!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

The  soft- voiced  twin  began  to  laugh.  "I 
told  you  that  you  was  gettin'  more  o'  that  pie 
on  your  face  'n  you  was  in  your  mouth!"  he 
exclaimed,  whereupon  the  other  quickly  turned 
away  his  besmeared  countenance,  proceeding 


206         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

to  wipe  it  vigorously  with  the  sleeve  of  his 
coat. 

"Have  you  got  your  bounty  yet  for  the 
coyotes  you  dug  out  of  the  hill?  '*  asked  Hope, 
to  allay  his  discomfort.  She  glanced  side- 
ways at  the  soft-voiced  twin,  who  assumed  his 
most  docile,  innocent  expression,  and  rode  on 
ahead.  It  had  become  a  sore  subject  with  him. 
Suddenly  giving  a  wild  whoop  he  spurred  up 
his  pinto  and  dashed  in  among  the  assortment 
of  tents,  bringing  to  the  entrance  of  her  abode 
old  Mother  White  Blanket,  who  hurled 
after  him  numerous  blood-curdling,  Indian  in- 
vectives. Then  she  covered  her  yellow  prongs 
of  teeth  under  a  wrinkled  lip  and  scowled 
fiercely  at  Hope  as  she  passed  along  the  road, 
causing  the  breed  boy  to  say: 

"The  old  woman's  got  it  in  fer  you,  I 
reckon.  But  don't  you  care,  she  ain't  so  all- 
fired  smart  as  she  makes  out  to  be! " 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  her,"  replied  Hope. 
"  She  suspects  me  of  having  had  a  hand  in  the 
shooting  that  night  at  the  sheep-corrals  up 
there,  and  in  consequence  has  a  very  bad  heart 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         207 

for  me.  Now  how  could  she  think  such  a  thing 
as  that?  I  don't  beheve  she's  much  of  a  witch, 
though,  because  when  she  gets  in  one  of  her 
fits  of  passion  she'd  ride  off  on  a  broomstick  if 
she  were." 

"  She's  got  eyes  Hke  a  hawk,"  said  the  boy, 
"  always  seein'  everything  that's  goin'  on." 

"  She  don't  miss  much,  that's  sure,"  mused 
Hope,  as  they  passed  by  the  house  and  ap- 
proached the  corrals.  There  the  soft-voiced 
twin  was  talking  with  Carter,  praising,  en- 
thusiastically, the  points  of  his  pinto  cayuse, 
and  comparing  it  with  the  blooded  saddle 
horse  which  Sydney  had  just  brought  from 
Hathaway's  home-ranch  at  Hope's  request. 
The  boy  never  knew  just  how  his  statements 
were  received,  for  at  sight  of  Hope  the  young 
man  went  out  into  the  road  to  meet  her. 

She  welcomed  him  with  a  quick  smile,  which 
a  year  previous  would  have  been  accompanied 
by  a  sisterly  kiss.  Carter  noted  its  omission 
this  day  with  singular  impatience.  How  long, 
he  wondered,  before  she  would  forget  his  fool- 
ishness.   It  occurred  to  him  then,  that  in  spite 


208         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

of  her  girlishness  she  was  very  much  a  woman, 
and  his  actions  toward  her,  which  now  he  most 
heartily  regretted,  had  ignited  a  spark  of  self- 
consciousness  in  her  nature,  raising  an  effec- 
tive barrier  between  them  that  only  time  could 
wear  away. 

"I  expected  Jim  with  the  horse  instead  of 
you,  Sydney,"  she  said.  "How  did  it  hap- 
pen?" 

"A  lot  of  men  are  up  with  the  trail  herds, 
and  your  father  needed  Jim  to  help  pay  them 
off,  so  I  brought  the  horse  instead.  Jim  will 
be  back  in  a  couple  of  days,"  he  explained. 

"You  went  down  to  the  ranch,  then,  with 
him  yesterday  evening,  I  suppose,"  said  Hope. 
"  What  are  they  all  doing  there? " 

"It  looks  just  as  it  did  any  evening  last 
summer,  if  you  happened  to  drop  in  on  them. 
Little  Freddie  Rosehill  thumping  away  at  the 
piano  and  singing  bass  from  the  soles  of  his 
feet,  that  tallest  Cresmond  girl,  with  the  red 
hair,  yelling  falsetto,  and  the  others  joining  in 
when  they  got  the  chance.  Then  down  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room  the  usual  card  table — 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         209 

your  father,  mother,  Clarice,  and  O'Hara,  and 
father  and  mother  Cresmond  watching  the 
game  and  hstening  to  the  warbling  of  their 
offspring." 

"Is  Larry  O'Hara  there?"  asked  Hope  in 
surprise.  "  I  thought  he  was  not  coming  this 
year." 

"Don't  you  ever  think  O'Hara  is  going  to 
give  you  up  as  easy  as  that,"  replied  Sydney, 
laughing.  "  He  just  got  there  yesterday,  and 
was  in  the  depths  of  despair  when  he  dis- 
covered you  had  flown.  He  told  Clarice  he 
was  coming  over  here  to  see  you  as  soon  as  he 
could  decently  get  away.  His  mother's  with 
him,  which  makes  that  proposition  a  little  more 
awkward  for  him  than  if  he  were  alone.  It 
was  late  when  I  got  there  and  I  didn't  have 
time  to  change  my  clothes,  so  I  just  walked  in 
on  them  in  this  outfit.  But  they  seemed  pretty 
glad  to  see  me." 

"I'll  bet  they  nearly  smothered  you  with 
welcome!  I  can  just  see  them,"  said  Hope. 
"That  Lily  Cresmond  with  the  red  hair  al- 
ways was  so  demonstrative  to  you,  Syd.    I'm 


210         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

sorry  O'Hara  is  there,  and  Clarice  Van  Rens- 
salaer,  too — or  rather,  I  mean,  I'm  sorry  only 
because  they  are  there  that  I  am  not  at  home, 
for  I  like  them;  but  I'm  not  very  sorry 
either,  Syd.  I'd  rather  be  up  here  in  the 
mountains,  free  like  this,  with  my  poor  little 
Louisa,  and  you  and  Jim  camping  over  the 
hills  there,  than  stifling  in  the  atmosphere  of 
those  New  York  people." 

"  You're  a  queer  girl,  Hope,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  blame  you  much.  I  was  glad  to  leave 
this  morning  and  head  my  horse  this  way." 

"Did  father — ask  about  me?"  she  inquired 
hesitatingly. 

"  He  didn't  lose  any  time  in  getting  me  off 
alone  and  questioning  me  for  about  an  hour," 
he  replied.     "He  misses  you,  Hope." 

"Poor  father — poor  old  Dad!"  exclaimed 
the  girl  softly.  Then  with  a  peculiar  motion 
of  her  head  and  shoulders,  as  if  throwing  off 
a  load,  she  remarked  firmly:  " But  that  makes 
no  difference.  I  am  glad,  anyway,  to  be  here. 
I  have  you  and  Jim  so  near,  and  my  dear  little 
German  girl — and  perfect  freedom! " 


HOPE    HATHAWAY        211 

"And  you  have  Livingston  to  take  the  place 
of  O'Hara,"  he  returned,  *'and  there  is 
nothing  lacking,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  except  a 
good  cook  in  the  Harris  family." 

"  Mr.  Livingston  is  nothing  to  me,"  replied 
Hope  quickly,  "  and  he  doesn't  care  anything 
for  me,  if  that  is  what  you  mean  to  imply." 
Her  eyes  flashed  and  she  spoke  with  unusual 
sharpness. 

"We  can't  afford  to  quarrel,  Hope,"  ex- 
claimed Carter.  Then,  putting  his  hand  upon 
her  shoulder,  said  very  earnestly :  "  I  was  just 
joking,  and  didn't  mean  to  imply  anything,  so 
don't  be  angry  with  me.  Besides,  it  won't  do. 
It's  near  noon  and  I  was  going  to  suggest  that 
we  go  over  to  camp  and  have  William  get  us 
up  a  good  dinner,  and  then  we'll  go  fishing. 
What  do  you  say?  You  can  invite  your  breed 
brigade;  they  look  hungry,"  pointing  to  the 
two  boys  sitting  on  the  ground  in  the  shade  of 
a  log  barn,  their  knees  drawn  up  under  their 
chins. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  what  you  say,  Syd, 
dear,"  she  said  abruptly.    "  I  believe  I  am  get- 


212         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

ting  to  be  quite  as  foolish  as  other  people,  to 
be  offended  so  easily.  I  should  as  soon  expect 
you  to  turn  upon  me  in  wrath  if  I  told  you  to 
look  out  for  little  Louisa." 

"Poor  little  Louisa,"  he  exclaimed. 
"Where  is  she?" 

"  We  went  up  the  road  for  a  walk,  and  Mr. 
Livingston  drove  along  and  took  her  up  to 
see  her  Fritz's  grave,"  she  explained. 

"Now  then,  my  girl,  you  look  out  for 
Louisa!  There's  nothing  like  consoling  grief 
to  bring  two  hearts  close  together.  How  did 
you  ever  come  to  allow  him  to  carry  her  away 
up  there  and  do  the  consolation  act?  You'll 
sure  lose  him  now!  I  thought  you  had  more 
diplomacy ! " 

She  laughed  a  little. 

"  Unless  a  man  loved  me  with  every  atom  of 
his  being,  with  his  whole  life,  I  couldn't  feel 
the  least  attraction  for  him  in  that  way,"  she 
said.  "  That  is  the  way  I  have  planned  for  the 
one  man  to  love,  my  ideal  man,  Syd.  When 
such  a  man  comes  along  I  shall  love  him,  but  I 
very  much  fear  he  does  not  exist." 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         213 

"Then  you're  doomed  to  die  an  old  maid, 
Hope  I  But  don't  you  think  O'Hara  enter- 
tains that  kind  of  affection  for  you?" 

"Do  you  know,  I  have  a  perfect  horror  of 
being  an  old  maid.  Probably  I'll  outgrow  it. 
O'Hara?  No,  indeed!  He'll  get  over  it  soon 
enough,  and  think  just  as  much  of  some  other 
girl.  He's  a  nice  boy,  a  good  friend,  but  he 
isn't  just  my  idea  of  what  a  man  should  be." 

"I'm  afraid  you're  doomed,  Hope,"  said 
her  cousin,  shaking  his  head  solemnly. 
"  What  will  you  do,  spend  your  lonely  maiden- 
hood out  here  on  the  prairie,  or  take  a  life 
interest  in  some  Old  Ladies'  Home?" 

"  Did  you  say  something  about  going  up  to 
camp? "  she  asked.  "  But  I  ought  to  wait  for 
Louisa;  she  should  be  back  now." 

"  I've  ridden  twenty  miles  this  morning,  and 
the  consequence  is  my  appetite  is  rather  an- 
noying," replied  Sydney.  He  called  to  the 
two  boys,  sitting  drowsily  in  the  shade. 
"  Here,  you  boys,  if  you  want  to  go  out  and 
get  some  grub  with  this  lady,  just  run  in  her 
horse  for  her  as  fast  as  you  can." 


214         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so ! "  exclaimed  the  soft- 
voiced  twin,  who  jumped  up  with  wonderful 
alacrity,  followed  more  slowly  by  Dave. 
Another  moment  they  were  spurring  their 
ponies  across  the  large,  fenced  pasture  toward 
a  bunch  of  horses  grazing  quietly  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"  Those  boys  are  all  right  when  there's  any- 
thing to  eat  in  sight,"  remarked  Carter. 

"  Or  any  fun,"  added  the  girl. 

"  How  in  the  world  do  you  tell  them  apart? " 
he  inquired.  "I  look  at  one  and  think  I've 
got  him  spotted  for  sure,  and  then  when  the 
other  one  turns  up  I'm  all  mixed  again.  You 
seem  to  know  them  so  well,  you  must  have 
some  kind  of  a  mark  to  go  by." 

"  They  are  so  entirely  different  in  their  na- 
tures," she  said,  "that  I  almost  know  them 
apart  without  looking  at  them.  Their  faces 
look  different  to  me,  too.  Dan  has  certain  ex- 
pressions that  Dave  never  had;  and  their 
voices  are  nothing  alike." 

"  I've  noticed  their  voices,"  said  her  cousin, 
watching  the  boys  as  they  deftly  turned  the 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         215 

bunch  of  horses  and  headed  them  toward  the 
corral.  "  Well,  they  can  sure  ride  to  beat  three 
of  a  kind!  They're  not  losing  any  time  with 
those  horses,  either." 

The  corral  was  built  in  a  corner  of  the  pas- 
ture fence,  near  the  stables.  It  took  the  breed 
boys  scarcely  five  minutes  to  corral  the  horses, 
rope  the  saddle  animal  wanted,  throw  open  the 
large  gate  and  lead  out  the  horse.  The  other 
horses  followed  with  a  mad  dash,  kicking  up 
their  heels  in  very  joy  for  their  unexpected 
freedom. 

Hope  watched  the  road,  as  far  as  she  could 
see  it,  looking  for  the  return  of  her  small  Ger- 
man friend. 

"We'll  ride  along,"  suggested  Sydney, 
throwing  the  saddle  upon  her  horse,  "and 
we'll  probably  meet  them.  I  don't  think  we'll 
have  any  trouble  getting  Livingston  to  drive 
over  to  camp,  and  we'll  all  go  fishing  together." 

This  seemed  to  take  a  load  from  the  mind  of 
Hope,  and  light-heartedly  she  rode  away  to- 
ward the  camp  with  her  cousin  and  the  breed 
boys. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THEY  met  Livingston  and  his  charge 
just  as  they  reached  the  dimly  marked 
trail  that  led  up  a  gulch  toward 
Sydney's  camp.  At  the  invitation  extended 
for  dinner  the  sheep-man  drove  up  the  coulee 
and  followed  the  riders. 

William,  the  cook,  greeted  his  guests  with 
a  generous  smile,  then  proceeded  to  do  a  great 
amount  of  hustling  about  preparing  for  the 
meal,  which  he  promised  would  be  an  excellent 
one.  Being  a  round-up  cook  of  much  experi- 
ence, he  soon  set  before  them  such  an  assort- 
ment of  edibles  as  would  have  dumfounded 
the  uninitiated. 

The  afternoon  passed  off  pleasantly.  Hope 
was  unusually  vivacious,  and  Sydney  full  of 
amusing  small  talk,  principally  concerning 
his  sundry  adventures  and  impressions  during 
his  brief  absence  from  camp. 

216 


HOPE    HATHAWAY        217 

They  all  felt  the  grief  of  the  German  girl, 
and  each  showed  his  sjnmpathy  in  a  different 
manner.  Sydney  talked,  often  in  an  aimless, 
senseless  way,  but  obviously  to  divert  the  un- 
happy girl.  Hope  filled  each  pause,  concluded 
every  description  with  rich  drollery  and  mim- 
icry, while  Livingston's  quiet  attentiveness 
betokened  the  deepest  compassion.  Even  Wil- 
liam gave  her  many  smiles  and  made  numerous 
witty  remarks,  which  were  wholly  lost  upon 
her. 

"You're  in  a  very  bad  crowd  of  people, 
Miss  Louisa,"  said  Sydney.  "But  after 
awhile  you'll  be  so  much  like  us  that  you  won't 
notice  how  bad  we  are!" 

"Shame  on  you,  Sydney!"  exclaimed 
Hope.  "  Louisa  never  could  be  bad ! "  Then 
to  the  girl:  "The  truth  is,  he's  the  only  bad 
one  in  the  whole  outfit,  so  don't  let  him  make 
you  think  that  the  rest  of  us  are  bad,  too ! " 

"  You  are  all  so  goot,"  said  Louisa,  in  great 
earnestness. 

"Now  listen  to  that!"  cried  Sydney. 
"That's  the  first  time  anybody  ever  accused 


218         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

me  of  being  good!  I'll  get  a  gold  medal  and 
hang  it  about  your  neck.  Miss  Louisa,  and  I'll 
be  your  faithful  servant  from  now  on." 

"And  you'll  bring  her  fresh  flowers  every 
day,  and  maybe  you  could  borrow  Mr.  Living- 
ston's buggy  since  you  haven't  one  of  your 
own.  But  don't  soar  too  high,  Sydney,  she 
doesn*t  know  you  yet! "  returned  his  cousin. 

"  But  you  like  him,"  said  Louisa,  "  and  daat 
iss — vat  you  calls  'em — recommend  enough!" 

They  were  all  surprised  by  this  first  flash 
of  the  real  Louisa,  the  Louisa  of  sunshine  and 
mirth,  whom  Sorrow  had  so  soon  branded. 

It  was  the  first  time  Sydney  had  heard  her 
utter  anything  but  the  briefest  monosyllables. 
He  looked  at  her,  astonished.  For  an  instant 
silence  reigned,  then  Hope,  with  sudden 
abandonment,  threw  her  arms  about  her,  ex- 
claiming: 

"  Oh,  you're  the  dearest  thing  I  ever  saw  I 
Isn't  she,  Syd? "  And  then,  as  if  ashamed  of 
her  impulsiveness,  she  jumped  up  and  laugh- 
ingly left  the  tent.  A  few  moments  later  she 
put  her  head  inside,  remarking:  "The  trout 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         219 

haven't  begun  to  feed  yet.  I'd  like  to  know 
how  we  are  going  to  put  in  the  time  waiting 
for  them!  It's  too  hot  for  anything  in 
there,  and  it  won't  be  a  bit  of  use  to  try  to 
fish  for  an  hour,  at  least.  All  of  you  come 
outside." 

"  Yes,"  said  Carter,  rising  lazily  to  his  feet. 
"  I've  discovered  a  small  Eden  down  there  un- 
der the  willows,  along  the  creek.  All  green 
and  mossy  and  pepperminty,  but  the  snake's 
never  showed  up  yet.  Come  on,  we'll  all  go 
down  there." 

He  led  the  way  along  the  steep  bank  of  the 
small  creek  and  down  its  opposite  side  until  a 
parting  in  the  willow  brush  revealed  one  of 
Nature's  hidden  glories,  a  small  glen,  shady 
and  beautiful.  From  its  very  center  sprang  a 
tiny  spring,  forming  a  clear,  glassy  pool  of 
water  which  narrowed  into  a  tiny  trickling  rill 
that  went  creeping  through  the  grass-carpeted 
arbor  to  the  larger  stream  beyond. 

It  was  beautifully  inviting,  and  Hope  sank 
down  upon  a  mossy  cushion  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  delight. 


220         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"Now,  how  am  I  for  an  entertainer?" 
asked  Sydney  gayly.  Hope  turned  her  dark 
eyes  upon  him,  then  about  the  Httle  arbor. 

"Wait,"  she  said  softly,  "don't  talk  for  a 
minute — don't  even  breathe.  This  is  glori- 
ous!" Then  after  a  brief  pause,  continued: 
"There,  the  spell's  passed!  This  place  is  no 
longer  enchanting,  but  lovely  and  cool,  just  the 
same,  and  is  a  whole  lot  better  than  that  roast- 
ing tent  up  there.  What  became  of  the  twins? 
Probably  they  are  more  attracted  by  Wil- 
liam's mode  of  entertainment  than  yours, 
Syd! "  She  turned  to  Livingston  and  smiled. 
"  William  has  two  regular  customers  already, 
you  know.  I  am  afraid  to  think  what  will 
happen  if  he  camps  here  all  summer." 

"  I  am  inclined  to  add  my  name  to  the  list 
if  he  entertains  such  charming  ones  every 
day,"  replied  the  sheep-man. 

" I  meant  the  hoys"  said  Hope  in  all  seri- 
ousness. 

Sydney  laughed  outright. 

"  How  do  you  know  but  what  he  meant  the 
boys,  too? "  he  asked.     She  looked  at  him  with 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         221 

an  assumption  of  surprise.  "A  girl  never 
makes  such  a  mistake  as  that,"  she  said.  "It 
was  a  very  pretty  compliment." 

"  Worthy  of  O'Hara,"  he  put  in. 

"Worthy  of  Mr.  Livingston,"  she  declared. 
"O'Hara's  compliments  are  not  so  delicate. 
They  are  beautifully  worded,  but  uncon- 
vincing." 

"I  believe  she's  actually  giving  you  credit 
for  extreme  honesty!"  exclaimed  Carter. 

"I  sincerely  trust  so,"  replied  his  friend 
heartily.  "  It  would  be  a  most  pleasing  com- 
pliment." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  it  would  be  the  biggest 
one  she  ever  paid  anyone!  You're  the  first 
one  Hope  ever  credited  with  honesty.  You 
can  sit  for  an  hour  and  tell  her  a  great  long 
story  and  she'll  never  give  you  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  for  sure  whether  she  believes  you 
or  not.  The  chances  are  she  don't.  She'll  take 
your  assertions,  weigh  every  word,  and  then 
draw  her  own  conclusions." 

"You  only  know  from  your  own  experi- 
ence," demurred  Hope.    "All  people  haven't 


222         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

your  habit  of  departing  from  the  truth,  you 
know."  Then  to  Livingston:  "Really,  he 
can  tell  a  terrible  whopper  with  the  straightest 
face  imaginable !  He  only  proves  to  you  how 
well  I  know  him.  Last  summer  he  told  a  girl 
a  ridiculous  story  about  snakes.  It  was  her 
first  visit  at  the  ranch,  and  for  several  days 
I  thought  something  was  the  matter  with  her 
brain.  Every  time  she  heard  a  grasshopper 
buzz  anywhere  near  she  would  give  a  shriek 
and  turn  deathly  pale.  She  finally  told  me 
that  she  feared  rattlesnakes  because  Sydney 
had  told  her  that  that  particular  buzz  was  the 
snake's  death  rattle  and  that  something  or 
somebody  was  doomed  for  sure,  that  if  the 
snake  couldn't  get  the  human  victim  it  had  set 
its  eyes  upon,  it  crept  into  a  prairie-dog  hole 
and  got  one  of  them.  Of  course  that  is  only  a 
sample  of  his  very  foolish  yarns,  which  no  one 
but  an  ignorant  person  would  think  of  be- 
lieving." 

"  I  remember,"  laughed  Sydney.  "  That 
was  that  fair  Lily  Cresmond.  She  got  up 
and  had  breakfast  with  me  at  six  o'clock  this 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         223 

morning.  Poor  girl!  I'm  afraid  I've  put  my. 
foot  in  it  this  time! " 

"For  goodness'  sake,  did  she  propose  to 
you?"  asked  Hope,  aghast. 

"Not  that  I'm  aware  of!"  answered  Syd- 
ney. "No,  it's  worse  than  that.  She  asked 
me  to  tell  her  really  and  truly  why  you  weren't 
at  home  this  summer.  She  crossed  her  heart, 
hoped  to  die  she'd  never  breathe  a  word  of  it 
to  a  living,  human  creature,  so  I  told  her  that 
it  pained  me  to  tell  the  sad  story,  but  last 
season  Freddie  Rosehill  had  shown  you  such 
evident  admiration  that  your  father  had  be- 
come thoroughly  alarmed  and  thought  it  best 
to  keep  you  out  of  his  way  for  the  present. 
But  I  suggested  that  you  might  face  paternal 
wrath  and  come  back  just  for  one  look  at  the 
dear  little  boy." 

"Sydney,  you  never  did!"  gasped  Hope. 
"How  could  you?" 

"  Freddie  came  trotting  out  for  his  morning 
constitutional  just  as  I  was  riding  away,"  he 
continued,  "and  he  waved  his  cane  in  the  air 
and  actually  ran  down  to  the  corral  to  say 


224         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

good-by.  I  really  believe  he  liked  me  for  once 
because  I  was  leaving,  and  he  very  gingerly 
asked  about  you,  and  naturally  was  visibly  re- 
lieved when  I  assured  him  that  you  would 
probably  not  be  home  while  he  was  there. 
Talk  about  your  joshersl"  he  said  to  Living- 
ston. "  Hope  had  the  little  Englishman  so  he 
didn't  know  his  soul  was  his  own !  She'd  take 
him  out  on  the  prairie  and  lose  him,  have  him 
pop  away  for  an  hour  at  a  stuffed  chicken  tied 
to  the  top  of  a  tree,  shoot  bullets  through  his 
hat  by  mistake,  and  about  a  million  other 
things  too  blood-curdling  to  mention.  He 
didn't  want  to  refuse  my  aunt's  invitation  to 
join  the  party  at  the  ranch  every  summer,  but 
his  days  and  nights  were  spent  in  mortal  terror 
of  this  dignified  daughter  of  the  house.  And 
I  must  say  there  wasn't  much  love  lost  be- 
tween them." 

"A  brainless  little  fop!"  commented  Hope. 

"Well,  it  seems  he  had  sense  enough  to 
catch  that  oldest  Cresmond  girl,  Lily,  whose 
ears  I  filled  with  the  pathetic  story ;  but  I  didn't 
know  it  then,  that's  the  fun  of  it  1    He  held  out 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         225 

his  fat  little  hand  to  me  when  I  started  out 
this  morning  and  said : '  I  want  your  congratu- 
lations.    Lily  has  promised  to  be  my  Lady.' 

*  You  don't  say  so,'  I  said.  *  Lord,  but  what  a 
haul  you've  made,  Rosehill!'    *Yes,'  said  he, 

*  she's  a  beauty ! '  *  And  a  million  or  so  from 
her  papa'U  set  you  up  in  housekeeping  in  great 
shape  over  in  Old  England.  I  certainly  con- 
gratulate you  I '  said  I.  He  didn't  seem  to  have 
anything  more  to  say,  so  I  rode  off,  and  do  you 
know  I  never  once  thought  of  what  I'd  told 
that  girl  about  him  liking  you  until  I  was 
halfway  here." 

"Oh,  Syd,  what  have  you  done!"  cried 
Hope.  "You  ought  to  go  right  back  to  the 
ranch  and  fix  it  up  for  them.  It  might  be  real 
serious ! " 

"Don't  worry;  they'll  fix  it  up  between 
them,  just  give  'em  time,"  laughed  Sydney. 
"  But  then  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  the  cause  of 
breaking  up  such  a  match.    I  sure  wouldn't! " 

"  I  should  say  not !  It  would  be  terrible ! " 
agreed  Hope. 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  like  it  on  my  conscience," 


226         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

continued  Sydney,  "to  break  up  such  a  good 
match  by  my  thoughtless  words.  It  would  be 
too  bad  to  spoil  two  families ! " 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  excepting  the  lady, 
whom  I  do  not  know,"  remarked  Livingston. 
"  But  I  have  met  Rosehill.  He  is,  in  my  esti- 
mation, a  worthless  specimen  of  English  aris- 
tocracy." 

"  Oh,  they're  mostly  all  alike,  a  mighty  poor 
outfit  all  through,  from  the  ones  I've  known! 
But  I  guess  they'll  manage  to  fix  it  up  among 
themselves,"  laughed  Hope. 

At  this  remark  Livingston  looked  oddly  at 
the  girl,  then  the  brush  crackled  near  them, 
followed  by  the  appearance  of  one  of  the 
twins,  who,  smiMng  victoriously,  held  up  for 
inspection  a  small  string  of  trout. 

"And  here  we've  been  wasting  our  time 
when  we  might  have  been  fishing  instead!" 
exclaimed  Hope,  springing  up  from  her 
mossy  couch  and  minutely  examining  the 
string  of  fish. 

"  You'll  find  fishing  tackle,  all  you  want,  up 
at  camp.     William'll  show  you,"  remarked 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         227 

Sydney.  "  For  my  part  I  shall  stay  here  and 
gather  strawberry  leaves  for  Miss  Louisa  to 
make  into  wreaths.  Isn't  this  one  a  daisy? 
It's  too  warm  to  fish,  anyway,"  he  concluded. 

"You  shall  not  decide  for  her,  Syd,"  de- 
clared Hope.  "Which  would  you  rather  do, 
Louisa?" 

The  German  girl  shook  her  head,  smiling 
a  little.    "  It  is  very  warm,"  she  said. 

"  Then  you  shall  stay  with  Sydney,"  decided 
Hope.  "  But  I  am  only  going  to  fish  a  little 
while,  anyway,  because  I've  got  something  else 
I  want  to  do."  She  looked  up  at  Livingston, 
who  had  come  near  her,  and  laughed.  "  Yes, 
you  may  go  with  me  if  you  will  show  me  how 
to  cast  a  fly.  Sydney  says  you  are  an  expert 
fisherman,  but  I  don't  know  the  first  thing 
about  it.  We  will  walk  up  the  creek  and  fish 
down,  because  the  boys  are  fishing  down  here." 
She  called  to  the  boy,  who  was  walking  toward 
the  stream:  "  I'll  be  ready  to  go  home  in  about 
an  hour,  wait  for  me! "  He  nodded  in  reply. 
"  Come  on,"  she  said  to  Livingston. 

They  had  fished  in  silence  some  minutes, 


228         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

far  up  the  stream  at  an  open  point  where  sev- 
eral other  smaller  streams  joined  this,  forming 
a  broad  group  of  tiny,  gravelly  islands. 

"I  do  think,"  said  the  girl  finally,  "that 
this  is  great  sport,  though  I  cannot  haul  them 
out  like  you  do.  Now  it  must  be  luck — noth- 
ing more,  for  we  both  have  exactly  the  same 
kind  of  flies." 

"  You  leave  your  fly  too  long  in  the  water," 
said  the  man.  "You  should  cast  more — ^like 
this." 

"  But  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  get  the  hang 
of  it,"  she  exclaimed,  making  a  desperate  at- 
tempt. 

"  Not  like  that,"  said  Livingston.  "  Look, 
this  is  the  way.  There,  you've  caught  your- 
self!" 

"  Yes,  how  foolish,"  laughed  the  girl.  "  It's 
in  there  to  stay,  tool" 

"Wait,  I  will  assist  you,"  he  said,  leaping 
across  the  stream  which  separated  them,  and 
coming  to  her  side. 

"  I  think  I  can  get  it  out  all  right,"  she  said, 
throwing  down  her  pole,  and  using  on  the  en- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY        229 

tangled  hook  more  force  than  discretion.  She 
laughed  in  a  half -vexed  manner  at  her  at- 
tempts, while  Livingston  stood  near  watch- 
ing, his  eyes  earnest,  intent,  his  face  illumed 
by  a  soft,  boyish  smile  of  quiet  enjoyment. 

"If  I  had  another  hook  I'd  cut  this  off 
and  leave  it  in  there,"  she  said,  "  but  the  fishing 
is  too  fine  to  leave  now.  No,  wait  a  minute," 
motioning  him  back  with  the  disengaged  hand 
while  she  tugged  vigorously  at  the  hook  with 
the  other.  "  I  can  do  it.  If  only  the  material 
in  this  waist  wasn't  so  strong,  I  might  tear  it 
out.  How  perfectly  idiotic  of  me  to  do  such 
a  thing,  anyway!"  Her  cheeks  were  aflame 
with  the  exertion.  "  You  see,"  she  continued, 
still  twisting  her  neck  and  looking  down  side- 
ways at  the  shoulder  of  her  gown  where  the 
hook  was  imbedded,  "I  don't  want  to  break 
it  because  we'd  have  to  go  way  back  to  the 
camp  and  start  in  over,  and  then  it  would  be 
too  late  in  the  day.  I  don't  see  what  possessed 
that  fish  to  get  away  with  my  other  hook !  But 
this  goods  simply  won't  tear!" 

"There's  no  other  way,"  declared  Living- 


230         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

ston,  with  conviction.  "You  will  have  to  let 
me  help  you.  I'll  cut  it  out.  See,"  he  scru- 
tinized the  hook  very  closely,  while  Hope 
threw  down  her  arms  in  despair,  "  it's  only  held 
by  a  few  threads.  If  you  don't  mind  doing 
a  Uttle  mending,  I  will  perform  the  operation 
in  a  moment  to  your  entire  satisfaction." 

"Well,  hurry,  please,  because  we  are  cer- 
tainly wasting  good  time  and  lots  of  fish." 

"  If  all  time  were  but  wasted  like  this,"  he 
exclaimed  softly,  prolonging  the  task. 

She  knew  that  he  was  taking  undue  ad- 
vantage of  the  situation  and  that  she  was 
strangely  glad  of  it,  recklessly  glad,  in  her 
own  fashion.  She  had  never  looked  at  him 
so  closely  before.  In  this  position  he  could 
not  see  her.  She  noticed  his  broad,  white  fore- 
head, and  felt  a  strong  desire  to  touch  the  hair 
that  dropped  over  it,  then  admonished  herself 
for  feeling  glad  at  his  slowness. 

From  the  hillside  above  them  a  man  on  a 
piebald  horse  watched  the  scene  interestedly. 
Without  warning  the  girl's  eyes  lifted  sud- 
denly from  the  soft,  brown  hair  so  near,  and 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         231 

met  those  of  the  rider  above.  Livingston's 
head  was  bent  close  to  her  own,  so  that  he  did 
not  see  the  leering,  grinning  face  that  peered 
down  at  them,  but  Hope  caught  the  look  di- 
rect, and  all,  and  more,  than  it  seemed  to  im- 
ply, Her  eyes  glittered  with  anger.  Like  a 
flash  her  hand  sought  her  blouse  and  for  an 
instant  the  bright  sunlight  gleamed  upon  a 
small  weapon.  As  quickly  the  man  wheeled 
his  horse  and  disappeared  behind  the  hill.  With 
a  deep  flush  the  girl  hid  the  little  revolver  as 
Livingston,  ignorant  of  the  scene,  trium- 
phantly held  up  for  inspection  the  rescued 
fishhook. 

"  Making  love,  by  the  holy  smoke,"  chuckled 
Shorty  Smith  to  himself,  spurring  up  his  pie- 
bald horse  and  heading  off  a  stray  calf.  "  So 
that's  what  she  does  'longside  o'  teachin'  kids !" 


CHAPTER  XVII       . 

UPON  the  highest  ridge  between  the 
camp  and  old  Peter's  basin  Hope  and 
the  twins  met  Ned  riding  slowly  along, 
his  sturdy  little  legs  drawn  up  into  the  straps 
of  a  man's  saddle.  He  had  an  old,  discarded 
felt  hat  of  his  father's,  several  sizes  too  large 
for  him,  pulled  down  until  his  ears  laid  flat 
along  the  brim.  From  under  its  wide,  dingy 
expanse  his  sharp,  little  black  eyes  peered 
out  inquisitively.  In  imitation  of  a  certain 
French  breed  whom  he  greatly  admired,  a 
large  red  handkerchief  was  knotted  about  his 
waist. 

He  made  a  picturesque  httle  figure  in  the 
bright  sunlight  as  he  rode  leisurely  toward 
them. 

"Where've  you  all  been?"  he  called  at  the 
top  of  his  boyish  treble.     "  You  boys're  goin' 

232 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         233 

to  catch  it  if  you  don't  bring  in  those  cows  be- 
fore dark!" 

"  Who  told  you? "  roared  Dave. 

"  The  old  man  told  me  to  come  an'  look  you 
fellers  up.  Where've  you  been? "  inquired  the 
child,  riding  up  alongside  and  swinging  his 
horse  into  pace  with  the  others. 

"Now  you  want  to  find  out  something," 
said  Dan  complacently. 

"I  don't  care  where  you've  been,"  said 
the  child  indignantly,  "but  you'd  better  be 
roundin'  in  them  cows  or  you'll  catch  it  I" 

Hope  rode  up  beside  him.  "  I'm  sorry  you 
weren't  home  when  we  left.  We've  been  over 
at  my  cousin's  camp.  The  next  time  you  shall 
go  along." 

"Let's  go  to-morrow,"  suggested  the  boy 
eagerly,  to  which  amusing  proposition  she  im- 
mediately agreed.  "  Say,"  he  continued,  "  I 
seen  Long  Bill  and  some  o'  them  fellers  drive 
in  a  bunch  of  mavericks  off'n  the  range,  an' 
they're  goin'  to  brand  'em  back  of  old  Peter's 
this  evenin'.  There  was  a  cow  with  an  O  Bar 
brand  on  her,  followed  'em  all  the  way  down, 


234         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

bellerin'  an'  makin'  a  big  fuss,  an'  they  can't 
get  rid  of  her.  They  give  me  a  half  a  dollar 
to  drive  her  back,  but  she  turned  so  quick  I 
couldn't  do  nothin'  with  her,  so  I  thought  I'd 
just  let  'em  take  care  of  her  themselves." 

"Are  you  sure  about  that  brand?"  asked 
Hope  quickly. 

"  Sure  as  anything,"  replied  the  boy. 
"Why?" 

"I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,"  she  told 
him.  "For  it  would  be  very  queer  if  one  of 
my  father's  cows  should  be  following  a  stray 
maverick  up  to  old  Peter's  place." 

"I'll  tell  you  something,"  whispered  the 
boy,  leaning  toward  her.  "  They  wasn't  year- 
lings at  all,  they  was  bringin'  in,  only  big 
calves." 

Her  face  darkened  savagely.  "  Come,"  she 
exclaimed,  "I'm  going  to  see  for  myself!" 

"Tattle-tale!"  cried  the  sweet-voiced  twin, 
"Now  you'll  get  us  into  a  scrape  for  tellin'. 
I'U  lick  you  for  this!" 

The  girl  turned  her  horse  sharply  about, 
stopped  it  short,  facing  them  fiercely. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         235 

"You  coward!"  she  exclaimed.  "That 
child  didn't  know  what  he  was  telling!  He's 
honest.  If  either  of  you  touch  him,  or  say- 
one  unkind  word  to  him  about  this,  I'll  make 
you  smart  for  it!" 

"  I  didn't  mean  nothin',"  declared  the  soft- 
voiced  twin  suavely. 

"Well,  I  guess  you  didn't  if  you  know 
what's  good  for  you ! "  she  exclaimed,  still  an- 
gry. "  Now  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it,  go  home  like  babies,  or  stand  by  me  and  do 
what  I  tell  you?" 

"  You  bet  I'll  stand  by  you ! "  roared  Dave. 

"I  reckon  you're  our  captain,  ain't  you?" 
said  the  other  sweetly. 

"I'm  a  scout,  I  am!"  exclaimed  the  boy, 
Ned,  riding  close  beside  her. 

She  mused  for  a  moment  with  darkening 
eyes,  putting  her  elbow  upon  the  saddle's  horn 
and  resting  her  chin  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand. 

"  It's  all  right,"  she  said  at  length  deliber- 
ately. "  Ned  will  show  you  where  the  cow  is, 
and  you  boys  drive  it  up  to  old  Peter's  corral 
just  as  quickly  as  you  can  ride.    Don't  let  any- 


286         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

one  see  you.  When  you  have  done  that,  go  up 
to  the  school-house  and  wait  there  for  me.  Now 
hurry,  and  don't  let  anyone  see  you  drive  in 
that  cow.  Go  around  this  other  side  of  old 
Peter's." 

She  motioned  her  hand  for  them  to  go,  and 
waited  until  they  were  out  of  sight,  then  rode 
on  to  the  school  coulee  which  led  into  old 
Peter's  basin.  It  was  a  long,  roundabout 
way,  but  her  horse  covered  the  ground  rapidly. 

From  the  hill  behind  the  school-house  she 
saw  Livingston  driving  back  to  his  ranch.  She 
stood  out  in  full  relief  against  the  green  hill- 
side, and  if  he  had  glanced  in  that  direction 
must  surely  have  seen  her.  From  that  distance 
she  could  not  tell  if  he  had  done  so  or  not.  She 
wondered  what  he  would  think  if  he  saw  her 
there  alone.  Then  to  get  sooner  out  of  sight 
she  ran  her  horse  at  full  speed  up  the  school 
coulee  toward  old  Peter's  basin. 

Livingston  saw  her  quite  plainly;  from  that 
distance  there  was  no  mistaking  her.  Then  he 
proceeded  to  do  a  very  unwise  thing.  He  put 
his  horses  to  their  full  speed,  reached  his  sta- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         287 

bles  in  a  few  moments,  threw  his  saddle  on  his 
best  horse  and  set  out  in  the  direction  the  girl 
had  taken. 

Hope  made  her  way  quickly  up  to  the  top 
of  the  divide,  then  skirmished  from  brush  patch 
to  brush  patch,  keeping  well  out  of  sight  until 
she  reached  the  brush-covered  entrance  of  Pe- 
ter's basin.  There  she  had  a  plain  view  of  the 
small  cabin,  the  rude  stable,  and  corral,  with- 
out herself  being  observed  by  the  occupants 
of  the  place,  and  there  she  settled  herself  to 
wait  the  appearance  of  the  cow,  whose  queer 
actions  had  been  reviewed  to  her. 

It  was  difficult  to  believe  that  she  was  actu- 
ally in  the  midst  of  cattle  thieves,  though  the 
suspicion  had  more  than  once  crossed  her  mind. 

She  held  that  class  of  men  in  the  utmost 
loathing,  and  felt  herself  to  be,  now,  in  the 
actual  discovery  of  the  crime,  a  righteous  in- 
strument in  the  arm  of  justice. 

The  unmistakable  figure  of  Long  Bill 
loafed  serenely  in  the  doorway;  old  Peter 
hobbled  about,  in  and  out  of  the  house,  while 
back  near  the  corral  a  man  was  carrying  an 


238         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

armful  of  wood.  This  man  the  girl  watched 
with  particular  interest.  He  took  the  sticks 
to  one  side  of  the  corral,  and  getting  down 
upon  his  knees  proceeded  to  arrange  them  on 
the  ground  in  methodical  order,  into  the  shape 
of  a  small  pyramid.  That  done  to  his  satis- 
faction, he  lounged  back  to  the  cabin  and  took 
a  seat  beside  Long  Bill  in  the  doorway. 

Presently  all  three  men  went  back  to  the 
corral,  and  looked  over  the  rails  at  several 
small  creatures  which  were  running  about  the 
enclosure. 

"  Them  ain't  bad-lookin*  fellers,"  Long  BiU 
was  saying. 

Hope,  from  her  position  in  the  brush,  tried 
to  imagine  what  they  were  talking  about,  for 
the  distance  was  too  great  to  carry  the  sound 
of  their  voices. 

"  I  reckon  we  might  as  well  git  'em  branded 
an'  have  it  over  with,"  suggested  Shorty 
Smith,  the  third  man  of  the  party. 

"  I  reckon  we  might  as  well,"  replied  Long 
Bill.    Old  Peter  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"Go  ahead,"  he  grunted.    "But  remember 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  239 

I  don't  know  nothin'  about  these  here  calves  I 
You're  just  usin'  my  corral  here  to-day,  an'  the 
devil  keep  your  skins  if  you  git  caught! " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know! "  drawled  Shorty  Smith. 

"Well,  I  know!"  roared  the  old  man. 
"If  you  can't  take  my  advice  an'  put  this  here 
thing  off  till  after  dark  you  kin  take  the  con- 
sequences. Anybody's  hkely  to  ride  along 
here,  an'  I'd  like  to  know  what  kind  of  a  yarn 
you'd  have  to  tell!" 

"Now  you  know  them  calves're  yourn," 
drawled  Shorty  Smith,  in  an  aggravating  tone, 
as  he  climbed  up  and  seated  himself  on  the  top 
pole  of  the  corral.  "You  know  them're 
yourn,  every  blame  one,  an'  their  mothers  're 
back  in  the  hills  there ! " 

"  Your  cows  all  had  twins,  so  you  picked  out 
these  here  ones  to  wean  'em,  if  anybody  should 
ask,"  said  Long  Bill,  continuing  the  sport. 

The  old  man  uttered  a  string  of  oaths. 

"  Not  much  you  don't  pan  'em  oif  onto  me! " 
he  exclaimed.  "My  cows  ain't  havin'  twins 
this  year!" 

"  Some  of  Harris'  has  got  triplets/'  mused 


240         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

Shorty  Smith,  at  which  Long  Bill  laughed, 
exclaiming : 

"  Been  lary  ever  since  them  stock-inspectors 
was  up  here  last  fall,  ain't  you?  Before  that 
some  o'  your  cows  had  a  half  a  dozen  calves. 
I  should  'a'  thought  you  had  more  grit'n  that, 
Peter!" 

The  old  man  cursed  some  more.  Shorty 
Smith  jumped  down  from  his  high  perch  and 
fetched  a  long,  slender  rod  of  iron  from  be- 
tween two  logs  of  the  cow-shed. 

"Might  as  well  git  down  to  business,"  he 
said  as  he  threw  the  branding  iron  on  the 
ground  beside  the  symmetrical  pyramid  of 
fire-wood,  which  he  proceeded  to  ignite. 

"  Let  up,  old  man,"  growled  Long  BHl, "  I'll 
take  the  blame  o'  the  whole  concern  an'  you 
ken  rake  in  your  share  in  the  fall  without  any 
interference  whatsomever." 

"  Don't  git  scared,  Peter,  you  ain't  got  long 
to  live  on  this  here  planet,  nohow,  so  you  can 
finish  your  days  in  peace.  If  there's  any  time 
to  be  served  we'll  do  it  for  you,"  drawled 
Shorty. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         241 

"That's  what  I  call  a  mighty  generous 
proposition,"  remarked  Long  Bill,  as  he  coiled 
up  his  rope.  "  We'll  just  git  the  orniments  on 
these  innocent  creatures  an'  shut  'em  up  in  the 
shed  fer  a  spell." 

"Yes,  yes!  Git  the  job  over  with  if  you 
ain't  goin'  to  wait  till  after  sundown,"  ex- 
claimed old  Peter  nervously. 

They  set  to  work  at  once,  roping,  throwing, 
and  putting  a  running  brand  on  the  fright- 
ened calves.  As  each  one  was  finished  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  operator  it  was  put  into  the 
cow-shed  nearby — a  rude  sort  of  stable, 
where  it  was  turned  loose  and  the  door  securely 
fastened  on  the  outside  with  a  large  wooden 
peg. 

They  had  been  working  industriously  for 
perhaps  half  an  hour  when  old  Peter  glanced 
up  from  the  calf  upon  which  he  was  sitting  and 
encountered  Hope  Hathaway's  quiet  eyes 
watching  them  interestedly.  She  stood  be- 
side the  cow-shed  but  a  few  feet  away,  and 
held  her  horse  by  the  bridle. 

"  Good  Godl "  screamed  the  old  man,  nearly 


242         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

losing  his  balance.  "Where  did  you  come 
from?" 

The  other  men,  whose  backs  were  toward 
her,  glanced  about  quickly,  then  proceeded  in 
well  assumed  unconcern  with  the  work  upon 
which  they  were  engaged. 

"  I  hope  I'm  not  intruding,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Shorty  Smith  politely. 
"  It  ain't  often  we're  favored  by  the  company 
of  wimmen  folks." 

"  Those  are  fine-looking  calves  you've  got 
there,"  observed  the  girl. 

"  Pretty  fair,"  replied  Shorty  Smith,  assist- 
ing the  animal  to  its  feet. 

The  visitor  stepped  to  one  side  while  he 
dragged  it  into  the  shed  and  closed  the  door, 
fastening  it  with  the  peg.  Then  Long  Bill 
proceeded  to  throw  another  victim  with  as 
much  coolness  as  though  Hope  had  not  been 
there  with  her  quiet  eyes  taking  in  every  detail. 

Old  Peter  had  not  uttered  a  word  since  his 
first  involuntary  exclamation,  and  though 
visibly  agitated,  proceeded  in  a  mechanical 
manner  to  assist  with  the  branding,  but  he  kept 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         243 

his  head  down  and  his  eyes  obstinately  averted 
from  the  girl's. 

Nearly  a  dozen  had  been  branded,  and  only 
one,  besides  the  last  victim  already  thrown  to 
the  ground,  remained  in  the  corral. 

Hope's  whole  attention  was  apparently 
taken  up  with  the  branding,  which  she  watched 
with  great  interest.  Old  Peter  gradually  re- 
gained his  equilibrium,  while  Long  Bill  and 
Shorty  Smith  had  begun  to  congratulate  them- 
selves that  their  spectator  was  most  innocent 
and  harmless.  Yet  as  Hope  moved  quietly 
back  to  her  position  beside  the  rude  stable 
building  she  not  only  observed  the  three  men 
intent  upon  the  branding,  but  noted  the  ap- 
proach of  a  large  cow  which  had  appeared 
from  the  right-hand  coulee  about  the  time  she 
left  her  hiding-place  in  the  brush. 

If  the  men  had  not  been  so  busy  they  would 
undoubtedly  have  seen  this  particular  cow 
coming  on  steadily  toward  the  corral,  now  but 
a  rod  distant.  They  would  have  noticed,  too, 
the  girl's  hand  leave  her  side  like  a  flash  and 
remove  the  large,  smooth  peg  from  where 


244         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

Shorty  Smith  had  hastily  inserted  it  in  the 
building.  They  would  have  seen  the  stable 
door  open  slowly  by  its  own  weight,  and  then 
the  peg  quickly  replaced.  What  they  did  no- 
tice was  that  Miss  Hathaway  came  very  near 
to  them,  so  close  that  she  leaned  over  old  Pe- 
ter's shoulders  to  observe  the  smoking,  steam- 
ing operation. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  there  quietly,  then 
all  at  once  exclaimed  in  some  surprise : 

"Why,  your  calves  are  all  outl"  Instantly 
the  greatest  consternation  reigned,  then  old 
Peter  hobbled  to  his  feet  with  an  oath. 

"Every  blamed  one,"  said  Shorty  Smith. 
"How  'n  blazes  did  that  happen?" 

"  I  reckon  you  didn't  put  that  peg  in  right," 
drawled  Long  Bill. 

"Look!"  screamed  old  Peter,  pointing  at 
the  large  cow  that  had  come  nearer  and  had 
picked  out  from  the  assortment  of  calves  one 
of  which  it  claimed  absolute  possession.  It 
was  at  this  unfortunate  moment  that  Living- 
ston, quite  unobserved,  rode  into  Peter's  basin. 

"I'll  help  you  drive  them  in,"  volunteered 


a. 

J3 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         245 

Hope,  instantly  mounting  her  horse  and  riding 
into  their  midst.  Then  a  queer  thing  followed. 
Old  Peter,  with  a  cat-like  motion,  sprang 
toward  her  and  covered  her  with  a  six-shooter. 

"Git  off'n  my  place,  you  she-devill"  he 
cried,  his  face  livid  with  rage  and  fear, 

"Good  God,  don't  shoot,  you  fool!"  cried 
Shorty  Smith,  while  Long  Bill  made  a  stride 
toward  the  frenzied  old  man. 

Livingston's  heart  stood  still.  He  was 
some  distance  away  and,  as  usual,  unarmed. 
For  an  instant  he  stopped  short,  paralyzed  hy 
the  sight.  Then  the  girl  wheeled  her  horse 
suddenly  about  as  if  to  obey  the  command. 
As  she  did  so  a  report  rang  out  and  old  Peter, 
with  the  flesh  ripped  from  wrist  to  elbow, 
rolled  over  in  a  convulsed  heap.  It  was  all  so 
sudden  that  it  seemed  unreal.  Hope  sat  on 
her  quivering  horse,  motionless,  serene,  hold- 
ing in  her  hand  a  smoking  revolver. 

Long  Bill  and  his  companion  stood  like  stat- 
ues, dumfounded  for  the  instant,  but  Liv- 
ingston, with  a  bound,  was  at  the  girl's  side, 
his  face  white,  his  whole  being  shaken. 


246         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  Thank  God  1 "  he  cried  in  great  tenderness. 
"You  are  all  right!" 

"What  made  you  come  here?"  she  ex- 
claimed in  sudden  nervousness,  which  sounded 
more  like  impatience. 

Then  their  eyes  met.  Her  own  softened, 
then  dropped,  until  they  rested  upon  the  gun 
in  her  hand.  A  flush  rose  to  her  face  and  her 
heart  beat  strangely,  for  in  his  eyes  she  had 
seen  the  undisguised  love  of  a  great,  true  soul. 
For  an  instant  she  was  filled  with  the  wild 
intoxication  of  it,  then  the  present  situation, 
which  might  now  involve  him,  returned  to  her 
with  all  its  seriousness.  The  danger  must  be 
averted  at  once,  she  decided,  before  he  learned 
the  actual  truth. 

"Poor  old  man!"  she  exclaimed.  Then 
turned  to  Long  Bill  and  his  companion.  "  I'm 
awfully  sorry  I  had  to  hurt  him,  but  he  actually 
made  me  nervous !  I  had  an  idea  he  was  crazy, 
but  I  never  believed  he  was  perfectly  mad. 
He  ought  to  be  watched  constantly  and  all 
dangerous  weapons  kept  away  from  him. 
Didn't  you  know  he  was  dangerous?" 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         247 

Shorty  Smith  suddenly  rose  to  meet  the 
situation. 

"  I  knowed  he  was  crazy,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
didn't  know  he  was  as  plumb  locoed  as  that.*' 

"Well,  he's  out  of  business  for  awhile," 
remarked  the  girl.  "  You  boys  better  bandage 
up  his  arm  and  carry  him  into  the  house.  I'll 
send  over  old  Mother  White  Blanket  when  I 
get  back.  I  guess  you  can  get  in  the  calves  by 
yourselves  all  right,  for  really  I  feel  very 
shaken  and  I  think  I'll  go  right  home.  You'll 
go  with  me,  won't  you,  Mr.  Livingston.  But 
the  poor  old  crazy  man!  You  boys  will  take 
good  care  of  him,  won't  you — and  let  me  know 
if  I  can  be  of  any  assistance." 

"Well,  what  do  yo'  think?"  asked  Shorty 
Smith,  as  Hope  and  her  companion  disap- 
peared from  the  basin. 

"What'd  I  think?"  exclaimed  Long  Bill. 
"  I  think  we've  been  pretty  badly  done! " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  drawled  Shorty  Smith. 
"  I  reckon  she  ain't  goin'  to  say  nothin'  about 
meV' 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

I'LL  tell  you  what  I'd  do  'bout  it,  if  I  was 
you,"  said  Shorty  Smith  to  the  twins,  sev- 
eral days  later,  as  he  handed  back  a  folded 
sheet  of  paper.  "  I'd  git  your  teacher  to  read 
that  there  letter.  There's  something  in  it  she 
ought  to  know  'bout.  Better  not  tell  her  first 
where  you  got  it.  Let  on  you  don't  know 
where  it  come  from.  There's  somethin'  there 
she'll  like  to  hear  'bout,  that  you  kids  ain't  old 
enough  to  understand." 

"Oh,  is  that  so!"  interposed  Dan. 
"  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  tell  you  nothin'  about  it, 
but  like  enough  she  will,  an'U  thank  you  fer 
givin'  it  to  her,"  said  Shorty. 

"If  that  wi^tin'  wasn't  so  funny  I'd  make 
it  out  myself,"  rephed  the  soft-voiced  twin, 
"  fer  I  think  you're  jobbin'  us.  Shorty." 

"  No,  I  ain't,"  he  rephed.  "  An'  I'll  back  up 
my  friendship  fer  you  by  givin'  you  this!" 

248 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         249 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  silver  dollar  and 
handed  it  to  the  boy,  who  pocketed  it,  and,  fol- 
lowed bj'  his  brother,  walked  away  without  an- 
other word. 

Shorty  Smith  also  walked  away,  in  the 
opposite  direction,  without  a  word,  but  he 
chuckled  to  himself,  and  his  mood  was  ex- 
ceedingly jubilant. 

"  She  done  us  all  right,  an'  may  play  the 
devil  yet,  but  I'll  git  in  a  little  work,  er  my 
name  ain't  Shorty  Smith!"  Such  was  the  sub- 
stance of  his  thoughts  during  the  next  few 
days. 

That  afternoon  Hope  stood  in  the  doorway 
of  the  school-house,  watching  her  little  brood 
of  pupils  straggling-  down  the  hill. 

Louisa,  who  came  daily  to  be  with  her  be- 
loved friend,  had  started  home  with  the  two 
eldest  Harris  girls,  for  Hope,  in  her  capacity 
of  teacher,  occasionally  found  work  to  detain 
her  for  a  short  time  after  the  others  had  gone. 
This  teaching  school  was  not  exactly  play, 
after  all. 

The  twins  lingered  behind,  seemingly  en- 


250         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

gaged  in  a  quiet  discussion.  Finally  they  came 
back  to  the  door. 

"Here's  somethin'  for  you  to  read,"  said 
the  soft-voiced  boy,  handing  her  a  folded  pa- 
per, while  Dave  leaned  against  the  building 
with  an  ugly  scowl  on  his  face. 

"  To  read,"  asked  Hope,  turning  it  over  in 
her  hand.  "  Who  wrote  it,  and  where  did  you 
get  it? "  She  stepped  out  of  the  doorway  onto 
the  green  grass  beside  them. 

"  Read  it,"  said  the  breed  boy.  "  It's  some- 
thin'  you  ought  to  know." 

"Something  I  ought  to  know?  But  who 
wrote  it?"  insisted  the  girl. 

"A  woman,  I  reckon,"  replied  the  boy. 
"You  just  read  it,  an'  then  you'll  know  all 
about  it." 

Hope  laughed,  and  slowly  opened  the  much 
soiled,  creased  missive.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  at  once  that  it  was  for  me? "  she  asked. 

The  writing  was  in  a  bold,  feminine  back- 
hand, and  held  her  attention  for  a  moment.  The 
thought  occurred  to  her  that  Clarice  might 
have  written  from  the  ranch,  but  there  was 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         251 

something  unfamiliar  about  it.  She  looked 
first  at  the  signature.  "Your  repentant 
Helene,"  it  was  signed.  Helene, — who  was 
Helene,  she  wondered;  then  turned  the  paper 
over.  "  My  darling  Boy,"  it  started.  In  her 
surprise  she  said  the  words  aloud. 

"  Why,  that's  not  for  me !  Where  did  you 
boys  get  this  letter?  Now  tell  me! "  She  was 
very  much  provoked  with  them. 

The  so  ft- voiced  twin  smiled. 

"  I  thought  you'd  like  to  know  what  was  in 
it,"  he  remarked,  in  evident  earnestness. 

"  That  doesn't  answer  my  question,"  she  said 
with  some  impatience.  ''Where  did  you  get 
it?" 

"We  found  it,"  replied  Dave  gruffly,  still 
scowling. 

"  And  you  boys  bring  a  letter  to  me  that  was 
intended  for  someone  else,  and  expect  me  to 
read  it! "  She  folded  it  up  and  handed  it  back 
to  the  boy.  "  Go  and  give  that  to  whom  it  be- 
longs, and  remember  it's  very  wrong  to  read 
another  person's  letter.  Tell  me  where  you 
got  it.    I  insist  upon  knowing." 


252         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"Oh,  we  just  found  it  up  on  the  hill  last 
night,"  replied  the  soft-voiced  twin  evasively. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  her  the  whole  shootin' 
match !" roared  the  blunt  Dave.  "You're  a 
dandy!  We  found  it  up  in  the  spring  coulee 
last  night  near  where  Mr.  Livingston's  sheep're 
camped.  He  was  up  there  before  dark,  cuttin' 
'em  out.  This  here  letter  dropped  out  of  his 
pocket  when  he  threw  his  coat  on  a  rock  up 
there,  an'  so  Dan  an'  me  an'  Shorty  Smith 
came  along  an'  picked  it  up." 

"Mr.  Livingston's,"  said  Hope,  suddenly 
feeling  oddly  alarmed.  "Not  his — ^you  must 
be  mistaken !  Why,  it  began — it  was  too — in- 
formal— even  for  a  sister,  and  he  has  no  sister, 
he  told  me  so!" 

"It's  for  him  all  right,  for  here's  the  en- 
velope." Dan  took  it  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  her.  It  left  no  room  for  doubt. 
It  was  directed  to  liim,  and  bore  an  English 
postmark.  He  had  no  sister.  Then  it  must 
be  from  his  sweetheart — and  he  told  her  he 
had  no  sweetheart.  A  sudden  pain  consumed 
her. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         253 

"  I  reckon  it's  from  his  wife,"  said  the  soft- 
voiced  twin. 

"  He  has  no  wife,"  said  Hope  quietly. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  has!  That's  what  they  say," 
declared  the  boy. 

"They  lie,"  she  replied  softly.  "I  know 
he  has  no  wife." 

"  I'll  bet  you  he  left  her  in  England,"  said 
the  boy.     "  That's  what  the  men  say." 

"  Your  repentant  Helene,"  repeated  the  girl 
over  and  over  to  herself. 

Suddenly  suspicion,  jealousy,  rage,  entered 
her  heart,  setting  her  brain  on  fire.  She  turned 
to  the  boy  like  a  fury.    "  Give  me  that  letter  I " 

Frightened  beyond  speech  by  the  storm  in 
her  black  eyes,  he  handed  it  to  her  and  watched 
her  as  with  a  set  face  and  strangely  brilliant 
eyes  she  began  to  read.  Every  word  branded 
itself  upon  her  heart  indelibly. 

My  Darling  Boy:  Can  it  be  that  you 
actually  refuse  to  allow  me  to  come  there? 
Admitting  I  have  wronged  you  in  the  past, 
can  you  not  in  your  greatness  of  heart  find 


254         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

forgiveness  for  a  weak  woman — a  pleading 
woman 

There  at  the  foot  of  the  first  page  the  girl 
stopped,  a  sudden  terror  coming  over  her. 

. ''  What  have  I  done! "  she  cried,  crushing  the 
letter  in  her  hand.  '''What  have  I  done!'' 
Hysterically  she  began  tearing  it  into  small 
pieces,  throwing  them  upon  the  ground. 

"Now  we  can't  give  it  back  to  him,"  de- 
plored the  twin,  recovering  from  his  fright. 

"What  have  I  done?"  repeated  the  girl 
again,  softly.  Then  in  an  agony  of  remorse 
she  went  down  upon  her  knees  in  the  cool  grass 
and  picked  up  each  tiny  scrap  of  paper,  put- 
ting it  all  back  into  the  envelope.  She  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  down  the  long  green 
slope  below,  shamed,  disgusted — a  world  of 
misery  showing  in  her  dark  eyes.  "You're  a 
mighty  fine  specimen  of  womanhood!"  she 
exclaimed  aloud;  then  turning  about  suddenly 
became  aware  that  her  small  audience  was 
watching  her  with  some  interest. 

"  You  boys  get  on  your  ponies  and  go  right 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         255 

straight  home  I''  she  exclaimed  in  a  burst  of 
temper.  "  You're  very  bad,  both  of  you,  and 
I've  a  good  notion  to  punish  you! "  She  went 
into  the  school-house  and  slammed  the  door, 
while  the  twins  lost  no  time  in  leaving  the 
premises.  Not  far  away  they  met  old  Jim  Mc- 
CuUen. 

"Where's  your  teacher?"  he  asked,  stop- 
ping his  horse  in  the  road. 

"  She's  back  there,"  said  the  soft-voiced 
twin,  pointing  toward  the  school-house.  "  But 
you'd  better  stay  away,  for  she's  got  blood  in 
her  eye  to-day!" 

"No  wonder,  you  young  devils!"  laughed 
Jim,  riding  on. 

He  knocked  at  the  school-house  door  and, 
receiving  no  answer,  walked  in. 

"Oh,  Jim!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  rising  from 
the  small  table  at  the  end  of  the  room.  "I 
thought  it  was  some  of  the  children  returning. 
I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you!  You've  been 
gone  an  age.  Come,  sit  down  here  in  this 
chair,  I'm  afraid  those  seats  aren't  large 
enough  for  you." 


256         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"  I'll  just  sit  on  this  here  recitation  bench," 
replied  Jim,  "that's  what  you  call  it,  ain't  it? 
I  want  to  see  how  it  feels  to  be  in  school  again. 
I  reckon  it'll  hold  me  all  right." 

He  seated  himself  with  some  care,  while  the 
teacher  sank  back  at  her  table.. 

"  You  don't  seem  very  pert-lookin',  Hopie," 
he  continued,  noticing  her  more  carefully. 
"What's  the  matter?" 

She  looked  down  at  her  papers,  then  up  at 
him  with  something  of  a  smile. 

"  I'm  twenty  years  old,"  she  replied,  "  and 
I  don't  know  as  much  as  I  did  ten  years  ago." 

"You  know  too  much,"  replied  McCuUen. 
"You  know  too  much  to  be  happy,  an'  you 
think  too  much.  You  wasn't  happy  at  home, 
so  you  come  up  here,  an'  now  your  gittin'  the 
same  way  here.  You'll  have  to  git  married, 
Hopie,  an'  settle  down;  there  ain't  no  other 
way." 

"Mercy!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "that  would 
settle  me  sure  enough !  What  a  horrible  prop- 
osition to  consider!  Just  look  at  my  mother 
— beset  with  nervousness  and  unrest;  look  at 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         257 

that  poor  Mrs.  Cresmond  and  a  dozen  others 
— perfect  slaves  to  their  husbands.  Look  at 
Clarice — she  never  knew  a  moment's  happi- 
ness until  Henry  Van  Rensselaer  died!  Yes, 
I  think  marriage  settles  a  girl  all  right! 
What  terrible  mismated  failures  on  every 
hand!  It's  simply  appalling,  Jim!  IVe  never 
yet  known  one  perfectly  happy  couple,  and 
how  any  girl  who  sees  this  condition  about  her, 
everywhere,  can  dream  her  own  ideal  love 
dream,  picture  her  ideal  man,  and  plan 
and  believe  in  an  ideal  life,  while  she  herself 
is  surrounded  by  such  pitiful  object-lessons, 
is  a  wonder!" 

"I  ain't  much  of  a  philosopher,"  said  old 
Jim,  "  but  it's  always  been  my  notion  that  most 
wimmen  dont  see  what's  goin'  on  around  'em. 
They  think  their  own  troubles  is  worse'n  any- 
body's an'  're  so  taken  up  whinin'  over  'em  that 
their  view  is  somewhat  obstructed.  Take  the 
clear-headed  person  that  can  see,  an'  they  ain't 
agoin'  to  run  into  any  matrimonial  fire,  no 
more'n  I'm  goin'  to  head  my  horse  over  a  cut- 
bank.    They're  goin'  straight  after  the  happi- 


258         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

ness  they  know  exists,  an'  they  ain't  goin'  to 
make  no  mistake  about  it  neither,  if  they've 
got  any  judgment,  whatever." 

"What  made  my  mother  marry  my  fa- 
ther? "  asked  the  girl,  lifting  up  her  head  and 
facing  old  Jim  squarely.  "  That's  the  worst 
specimen  of  ill-assorted  marriages  I  know  of." 

Jim  McCuUen  looked  perplexed  for  an  in- 
stant. 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  in  the  beginning," 
he  replied  thoughtfully,  "  but  your  mother  got 
to  hankerin'  after  her  city  life,  her  balls  an' 
theaters  an'  the  like  o'  that.  After  she  got  a 
fall  from  her  horse  an'  couldn't  ride  no  more 
she  didn't  seem  to  take  interest  in  anything  at 
the  ranch,  an'  kept  gettin'  more  nervous  all  the 
time.  I  reckon  her  health  had  something  to  do 
with  it,  an'  then  she  got  weaned  from  the 
ranch,  bein'  away  so  much.  It  wasn't  her  life 
any  more." 

"  And  now  even  her  visits  there  are  torture 
to  her,"  said  Hope  bitterly.  "  She  is  drunk 
with  the  deadly  wine  of  frivolous  uselessness — 
society!"     Then  sadly,  "What  a  wealth  of 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         259 

happiness  she  might  have  possessed  had  she 
chosen  wisely!" 

"But  she  was  Hke  a  ship  without  a  rudder; 
she  didn't  have  no  one  to  guide  her,  an'  now  she 
thinks  she's  happy,  I  reckon,"  remarked  Mc- 
CuUen,  adding,  after  a  pause,  "  If  she  thinks 
at  all!" 

"And  poor  Clarice  was  a  baby  when  she 
married,"  mused  the  girl. 

"  And  that  Cresmond  woman  always  was  a 
blame  fool,"  concluded  Jim.  "  So  there's 
hope  for  you  yet,  don't  you  reckon  there  is? 
That  reminds  me,  here's  a  letter  from  O'Hara. 
There's  a  nice  fellow  for  you,  Hopie." 

"Yes,  he's  a  good  boy,  Larry  is,"  she  re- 
marked absently,  taking  the  letter  he  handed 
to  her. 

"Why,  he  says  he  is  coming  over  here  to 
stay  awhile  with  Sydney,  and  he  hopes  I  won't 

be "     She  smiled  a  little  and  tucked  the 

letter  in  her  belt.  "That'll  keep,"  she  said. 
"  Come  on,  I'm  going  over  to  camp  with  you, 
Jim." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

YOUR  horse  don't  look  very  tired,"  re- 
marked the  girl  as  they  rode  easily 
up  the  gulch  toward  Carter's  camp. 
"When  did  you  start?" 

"Left  'bout  noon,"  replied  McCuUen. 
"No,  he  ain't  tired;  ain't  even  warm,  be  you, 
old  man?  Just  jogged  along  easy  all  the  way 
an'  took  my  time.  No  great  rush,  anyhow. 
Cattle  're  gittin'  pretty  well  located  up  here 
now — good  feed,  fresh  water,  an'  everything 
to  attract  'em  to  the  place.  Never  saw  any 
stock  look  better'n  that  little  bunch  o'  steers  is 
lookin'.  Market's  way  up  now,  an'  they  ought 
to  be  shipped  pretty  soon." 

"Why  don't  you  ship  them,  then?"  asked 
Hope,  leaning  forward  to  brush  a  hornet  from 
her  horse's  head. 

"  Oh,  you  see,"  said  the  man  lamely,  "  them 
cattle  ain't  in  such  all-fired  good  fix  but  what 

260 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         261 

they  might  be  better,  an'  I  reckon  your  cousin 
ain't  in  any  hurry  to  ship,  nohow.  Pretty  good 
place  to  camp  up  here  in  summer.  Cool — 
my,  but  it  was  blasted  hot  down  at  the  ranch 
this  mornin',  an'  the  misquitoes  like  to  eat  me 
up!  'No  misquitoes  up  here  to  bother,  good 
water,  good  fishin',  good  company, — an'  who 
under  the  sun  would  want  to  quit  such  a 
camp?" 

"  I'm  willing,"  said  the  girl,  looking  at  him 
with  fathomless  eyes,  "I'm  perfectly  willing 
for  him  to  camp  here  all  summer.  It's  quite 
convenient  to  have  you  all  so  near.  Of  course 
I'm  getting  used  to  the  grub  down  there — 
some,  by  this  time.  Don't  think  I  do  not  ap- 
preciate your  being  here,  dear  old  Jim!  But 
you  know  I  understand,  just  the  same,  why 
you  are  here!  And  I  think,"  she  added  softly, 
"  I  couldn't  have  stood  it  if  he  hadn't  showed 
that  he  cared  for  me  just  so." 

"Cared!"  exclaimed  the  old  fellow. 
"Cared  for  you!  Why,  Hopie,  your  father 
worships  the  ground  you  walk  on!  He's  a 
great,  good-hearted  man,  the  best  in  the  world, 


262         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

and  you  mustn't  have  no  hard  feelin's  agin' 
him  for  any  little  weaknesses,  because  the  good 
in  him  is  more'n  the  good  in  most  men.  There 
ain't  no  one  that's  perfect,  but  he's  better'n 
most  of  us,  I  reckon.  An'  he  loves  you,  an'  is 
so  proud  of  you,  Hopie!" 

"Oh,  I  know  it,  I  know  it!"  exclaimed  the 
girl    passionately. 

"  An'  your  mother's  goin'  East  next  month," 
concluded  McCuUen.  "  She's  very  anxious  to 
get  away." 

"  My  poor  father! "  said  Hope  softly.  Then 
more  brightly:  "  I  suppose  Sydney's  out  with 
the  cattle." 

"Them  cattle  're  gettin'  pretty  well  lo- 
cated," replied  McCullen.  "  Don't  need  much 
herdin'.  No,  I  seen  him  there  at  Harris'  as  I 
come  along.  He  said  he  was  goin'  to  take  you 
an'  that  little  flaxen-haired  girl  out  ridin',  but 
concluded,  as  long  as  you  was  busy  at  the 
school-house,  that  he'd  just  take  the  little  one 
— providin'  she'd  go.  He  was  arguin'  the 
question  with  her  when  I  rode  by,  an'  I  reckon 
he'3  there  talkin'  to  her  yet,  er  else  givin'  her 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         263 

a  ridin'  lesson.  He'll  make  a  good  horse- 
woman out  o'  her  yet,  if  her  heart  ain't  buried 
too  deep  up  there  under  the  rocks." 

"  Oh,  Jim! "  rebuked  the  girl.  "  It's  dread- 
ful to  talk  like  that,  and  her  poor  heart  is  just 
crushed!     It's  pitiful!" 

"I  reckon  that's  just  what  Sydney  thinks 
about  it,"  replied  Jim,  his  eyes  twinkling. 
"  You  ain't  goin'  to  blame  him  for  bein'  sym- 
pathetic, be  you,  Hopie?" 

She  laughed,  but  nervously. 

"Louisa's  the  sweetest  thing  I  ever  saw, 
Jim!  She's  promised  to  stay  and  go  back 
to  the  ranch  with  me  in  the  fall  when  school  is 
over.  Isn't  it  nice  to  have  a  sister  like  that? 
But  goodness,  she  wouldn't  look  at  Syd — not 
in  ten  years!" 

She  was  so  positive  in  this  assertion  that  it 
left  Jim  without  an  argument.  She  slowed 
down  her  horse  to  a  walk,  and  he  watched 
her  take  O'Hara's  letter  from  her  belt  and 
read  the  lengthy  epistle  from  beginning  to 
end.  Not  a  change  of  expression  crossed  the 
usual  calm  of  her  face.     But  for  a  strange 


264         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

force  of  beauty  and  power,  by  which  she  im- 
pressed all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact,  her 
lack  of  expression  would  have  been  a  defect. 
This  peculiar  characteristic  was  an  added 
charm  to  her  strange  personality.  She  was 
rarely  understood  by  her  best  friends,  who 
generally  occupied  themselves  by  wondering 
what  she  was  going  to  do  next. 

It  may  be  that  old  Jim  McCullen,  calmly 
contemplating  her  from  his  side  of  the  narrow 
trail,  wondered  too,  but  he  had  the  advantage 
of  most  people,  for  he  knew^  that  whatever  she 
did  do  would  be  the  nearest  thing  to  her  hand. 
There  was  nothing  variable  or  fitful  about 
Hope. 

She  folded  her  letter  and  tucked  it  back 
in  her  belt,  her  only  comment  being,  as  she 
spurred  her  horse  into  a  faster  gait:  "Larry 
says  he  is  coming  over  here  one  of  these 
days." 

They  rode  past  the  camp  and  on  to  the  flat 
beyond,  where  grazed  Sydney's  two  hundi'ed 
head  of  steers.  These  they  rode  around,  while 
Jim  reviewed  the  news   of  the  ranch  and 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         265 

round-up,  in  which  the  girl  found  some  inter- 
est, asking  numerous  questions  about  the  re- 
cent shipment  of  cattle,  the  tone  of  the  market, 
the  prospect  for  hay,  the  number  of  cattle 
turned  on  the  range,  and  many  things  pertain- 
ing to  the  work  of  the  ranch,  but  never  a  ques- 
tion concerning  the  idle  New  Yorkers  who 
made  up  her  mother's  annual  house-party.  In 
them  she  took,  as  usual,  no  interest. 

She  finally  left  her  old  friend  and  turned 
her  horse's  head  back  toward  Harris'  still  as 
much  perturbed  in  heart  as  when  McCullen 
knocked  at  her  school-house  door.  She  tor- 
mented herself  with  unanswerable  questions, 
arriving  always  at  the  same  conclusion — that 
after  all  it  only  seemed  reasonable  to  suppose 
Livingston  should  be  married.  It  explained 
his  conduct  toward  her  perfectly.  She  won- 
dered what  the  woman,  Helene,  had  done  to 
deserve  such  unforgiveness  from  one  who, 
above  all  men,  was  the  most  tender  and 
thoughtful.  She  concluded  that  it  must  have 
been  something  dreadful,  and,  oddly  for  her, 
began  to  feel  sorry  for  him.     She  saw  him 


266         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

when  she  reached  the  top  of  the  divide,  riding 
half  a  mile  away  toward  his  ranch  buildings. 
Then  a  certain  feeling  of  ownership,  of 
pride,  took  possession  of  her,  crowding  every- 
thing before  it.  How  well  he  sat  his  horse,  in 
his  English  fashion,  she  thought.  What  a 
physique,  what  grace  of  strength!  Then  he 
disappeared  from  her  sight  as  his  horse 
plunged  into  the  brush  of  the  creek-bottom, 
and  Hope,  drawing  a  long  breath,  spurred  up 
her  own  horse  until  she  was  safely  out  of  sight 
of  ranch  and  ranch-buildings.  A  bend  in  the 
road  brought  her  face  to  face  with  Long  Bill 
and  Shorty  Smith. 

"Hello,"  said  Shorty  Smith,  drawing  rein 
beside  her.    "  I  was  a  lookin'  for  you." 

"  Really,"  said  the  girl,  stopping  beside  him 
and  calmly  contemplating  both  men. 

"Yep,"  nodded  Long  Bill  politely,  "we 
was  huntin'  fer  you,  Miss  Hathaway." 

"You  see  it's  like  this,"  explained  Shorty 
Smith ;  "  the  old  man,  he  ain't  a-doin'  very  well. 
I  reckon  it's  his  age.  That  there  wound  of 
his'n  won't  heal,  so  we  thought  mebby  you  had 


'.  .  .  Brought  her  face  to  face  with  Long  Bill 
and  Shorty  Smith." 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         267 

some  arnica  salve  er  something  sort  o'  soothin' 
to  dope  him  with." 

"I  haven't  the  salve,  but  I  might  go  over 
there  myself  if  you  want  an  anodyne,"  replied 
Hope,  unsmiling  at  the  men's  blank  faces. 

"I'm  goin'  to  ride  to  town  to-morrow  and  I 
reckoned  if  you  didn't  have  no  salve  you  could 
send  in  for  it." 

"Oh,  I  see!"  Hope's  exclamation  came  in- 
voluntarily. "What  do  you  want  to  get  for 
him  and  how  much  money  do  you  want  for 
it?" 

"Well, ^  you  see,  he  needs  considerable. 
Ain't  got  no  thin'  comfortable  over  there; 
nothin'  to  eat,  wear — nothin'  at  all." 

"All  right,"  replied  the  girl  in  her  cool,  even 
tone.  "I'll  see  that  he  is  supplied  with  every- 
thing, but  will  attend  to  the  matter  myself. 
Good-evening  I "  She  rode  past  them  rapidly, 
and  they,  outwitted  in  their  little  scheme  for 
whisky-money,  rode  on  their  way  toward  old 
Peter's  basin. 

Sydney's  horse  stood  outside  of  Harris'. 
He  left  a  group  of  men  who  were  waiting  the 


268         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

call  for  supper,  and  came  out  in  the  road  to 
meet  the  girl  when  she  rode  up. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you,"  he  said. 

"And  I  have  been  over  to  camp  and  around 
the  cattle  with  Jim,"  she  replied. 

"  Then  come  on  and  ride  back  up  the  road 
with  me  a  ways,  I  want  to  see  you,"  said 
Carter,  picking  up  the  bridle  reins  from  the 
ground. 

"But  Louisa "  she  demurred. 

"Louisa's  all  right,"  he  answered.  "IVe 
had  her  out  for  a  ride,  and  now  she's  gone  in 
the  house  with  that  breed  girl — Mary,  I  think 
she  called  her.  So  you  see  she's  in  excellent 
hands." 

Hope  turned  her  horse  about  and  rode  away 
with  him  silently. 

"  I  want  to  talk  with  you,  anyway,"  he  said, 
when  they  had  gone  a  short  distance.  "I 
haven't  had  a  chance  in  a  dog's  age,  you're 
always  so  hemmed  in  lately." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  she  questioned. 

"  There's  some  rumors  going  around  that  I 
don't  exactly  understand,  Hope,     Have  you 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         269 

been  doing  anything  since  youVe  been  up  here 
to  raise  a  commotion  among  these  breeds? " 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  shrug  of  contempt. 

"  You'll  have  to  tell  me  what  you're  driving 
at  before  I  can  enlighten  you,"  she  replied. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  light 
a  cigarette."  This  accomplished,  he  con- 
tinued: "I  saw  one  of  the  boys  from  Bill 
Henry's  outfit  yesterday  and  he  told  me  that 
he  was  afraid  you  were  getting  mixed  up  in 
some  row  up  here." 

"Who  said  so?"  she  demanded. 

"  Well,  it  was  Peterson.  You  know  he'll  say 
what  he's  got  to  say,  if  he  dies  for  it."  He 
waited  a  moment. 

"If  it  was  Peterson,  go  on.  He's  a  friend, 
if  he  is  a  fool.  What  did  he  have  to  say  about 
me?"  She  flecked  some  dust  from  her  skirt 
with  the  end  of  her  reins. 

Sydney  watched  her  carefully. 

"He  didn't  say  anything,  exactly,  about 
you,"  he  replied.  "That's  what  I'm  going 
to  try  to  find  out.  He  said  there  had  been 
some  kind  of  a  rumpus  up  here  when  you 


270         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

first  came — that  shooting  at  Livingston's  cor- 
ral, you  remember,  and  that  it  was  rmnored 
there  had  been  some  sharp-shooting  done,  and 
you  had  been  mixed  up  in  it." 

"Who  told  Peterson?"  demanded  the  girl. 

"Well,  it  seems  that  McCullen  laid  Long 
Bill  out  one  evening  over  at  Bill  Henry's 
wagon,  for  something  or  other,  and  this  old 
squaw  back  here,  old  Mother  White  Blanket, 
happened  along  in  time  to  view  the  fallen 
hero,  who,  it  seems,  is  her  son-in-law.  She 
immediately  fell  into  a  rage  and  denounced 
a  certain  school-ma'am  as  a  deep-dyed  villain." 

"  Villainess,"  corrected  Hope  serenely. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  was  it,"  continued  Syd- 
ney. "Anyway,  she  rated  you  roundly  and 
said  you  had  been  at  the  bottom  of  all  the 
trouble,  that  you  had  shot  Long  Bill  through 
the  hand,  wounded  several  others,  and  men- 
tioned the  herder  who  was  killed." 

"  She  lied! "  said  the  girl  with  sudden  white- 
ness of  face.  "That  was  a  cold-blooded  lie 
about  the  herder  I " 

"  I  know  that ! "  assured  her  cousin.    "  You 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         271 

don't  suppose  I  ever  thought  for  a  minute  you 
were  mixed  up  in  it,  Hopie,  do  you?  I  only 
wanted  to  know  how  it  happened  that  all  these 
people  are  set  against  you." 

"  Because  they  know  I'm  on  to  their  devil- 
try," she  replied  savagely.  "  I'd  like  to  have 
that  old  squaw  right  here  between  my  hands, 
80,  and  hear  her  bones  crackle.  How  dare  they 
say  I  shot  Louisa's  poor,  poor  sweetheart! 
Oh,  I  could  exterminate  the  whole  tribe  I " 

"  But  that  wouldn't  be  lawful,  Hopie,"  re- 
marked Carter. 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  half  smile,  resting 
one  hand  confidingly  upon  his  arm. 

"Syd,  dear,  I  don't  care  a  bit  about  the 
whole  concern,  really,  but  please  don't  men- 
tion it  to  anyone,  will  you?" 

"You  mean  not  to  tell  Livingston,"  he 
smiled. 

"  I  mean  not  anyone.  I  shouldn't  want  my 
father  to  hear  such  talk.  Neither  would  you. 
What  wouldn't  he  do!" 

"Of  course  not,"  he  agreed.  "You'd  get 
special  summons,  immediately,  if  not  sooner. 


272         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

But  there's  something  more  I  wanted  to  ask 
you  about.  How  was  it  you  happened  to 
shoot  old  Peter?" 

"  How  did  you  know?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"Now  I  promised  I  wouldn't  mention  the 
matter,"  he  replied. 

She  studied  for  a  moment. 

"There's  only  one  way  you  could  have 
heard  it,"  she  finally  decided  in  some  anger. 
"  That  person  had  no  right  to  tell  you." 

"It  was  told  with  the  best  intentions,  and 
for  your  own  good,  Hope,  so  that  I  could  look 
after  you  more  carefully  in  the  future." 

" Look  after  me! "  she  retorted.  "  Well,  I 
guess  he  found  out  there  was  one  time  I  could 
look  out  for  myself,  didn't  he?" 

"  He  seemed  to  think  that  more  a  miracle  or 
an  accident  than  anything  else,  until  I  told 
him  something  about  how  quick  you  were  with 
a  gun.  He  told  me  the  old  man  was  crazy, 
and  had  pulled  his  gun  on  you,  but  that  you 
had  in  some  remarkable  manner  shot  it  out  of 
his  hand,  shattering  the  old  fellow's  arm.  I 
assured  him  that  1  would  see  that  the  proper 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         273 

authorities  took  care  of  old  Peter,  as  soon  as 
he  had  recovered  sufficiently.  Now  what'll  we 
do  with  him,  Hope?"  She  did  not  reply. 
Then  he  continued:  "  I  knew  in  a  minute  that 
you'd  kept  the  real  facts  of  the  case  from  Liv- 
ingston. But  you're  not  going  to  keep  them 
from  me." 

"  Now  that  you  know  as  much  as  you  do,  I 
suppose  I  Ve  got  to  tell  you  or  you'll  be  getting 
yourself  into  trouble,  too,"  she  replied.  Then 
impulsively,  "  Sydney,  they're  a  lot  of  cattle 
thieves ! " 

"  Why,  of  course!  What  did  you  expect? " 
he  laughed. 

"And  I  actually  caught  them  in  the  very 
act  of  branding  calves  that  didn't  belong  to 
them!" 

The  young  man's  face  paled  perceptibly. 

"  You  didn't  do  anything  as  reckless  as  that, 
Hope!"  he  cried  in  consternation.  "It's  a 
wonder  they  didn't  kill  you  outright  in  self- 
protection!  Didn't  you  know  that  you  have 
to  be  blind  to  those  things  unless  you're  backed 
up  by  some  good  men! " 


274         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  You  talk  like  a  coward  1 "  she  exclaimed. 

"Not  much!  You  know  I'm  not  that,"  he 
rephed.  "But  I  talk  sense.  Now,  if  they 
know  that  you  have  positive  proof  of  this, 
you'd  better  watch  them ! " 

"They  all  need  watching  up  here.  I  be- 
lieve they're  all  just  the  same.  And,  Syd,  I 
wanted  to  know  the  truth  for  myself,  I 
wanted  to  see"  Then  she  reviewed  to  him 
just  what  had  happened  at  old  Peter's. 

"I'll  have  them  locked  up  at  once,"  said 
Carter  decisively.  "That's  just  where  they 
belong." 

"You  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind,  Syd 
— ^not  at  present,  anyway,  for  I  refuse  to  be 
witness  against  them." 

"You're  foolish,  then,"  he  replied,  "for 
they're  liable  to  do  something." 

"If  they're  quicker  than  I  am,  all  right," 
she  replied  fearlessly.  "But  they  are  afraid 
of  me  now,  and  I've  got  them  '^ust  "where  I 
want  them." 

He  tried  to  reason  with  her,  but  in  vain. 
She  was  obstinate  in  her  refusal  to  have  the 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         275 

men  arrested,  and  though  Sydney  studied  the 
matter  carefully,  he  could  find  no  plausible 
excuse  for  this  foolish  decision. 

As  Hope  rode  back  once  more  toward  Har- 
ris' the  face  of  Shorty  Smith,  insinuatingly 
leering,  as  she  had  seen  it  at  the  trout  stream, 
came  again  to  torment  her.  She  leaned  for- 
ward in  her  saddle,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  felt  in  her  whole  being  the  reason 
of  her  decision. 


CHAPTER  XX 

LARRY  O'HARA  rode  up  to  Sydney's 
camp  late  one  afternoon,  some  two  or 
-^  three  weeks  later,  and  finding  the  place 
deserted  went  in  the  cook-tent  and  made  him- 
self at  home.  It  had  been  a  long,  hot,  dusty 
ride  from  Hathaway's  home-ranch.  He  had 
experienced  some  difficulty  in  finding  the 
place,  and,  having  at  length  reached  it,  pro- 
ceeded with  his  natural  adaptitude  to  settle 
himself  for  a  prolonged  stay. 

He  was  a  great,  handsome,  prepossessing 
young  fellow,  overflowing  with  high  spirits 
and  good-nature.  Though  a  natural  born 
American,  he  was  still  a  typical  Irishman,  re- 
taining much  of  the  brogue  of  his  Irish  par- 
ents, which,  being  more  of  an  attraction  in  him 
than  otherwise,  he  never  took  the  trouble  to 
overcome.     All  the  girls  were  in  love  with 

276 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         277 

Larry  O'Hara,  and  he,  in  his  great  generosity 
of  heart,  knew  it,  and  loved  them  in  return. 

His  affection  for  Hope  Hathaway  was 
something  altogether  different,  and  dated  two 
or  three  years  back  when  he  first  saw  her  skim- 
ming across  the  prairie  on  an  apparently  un- 
manageable horse.  He  proceeded  to  do  the 
gallant  act  of  rescuing  a  lady.  For  miles  he 
ran  the  old  cow-pony  that  had  been  assigned 
him,  in  hot  pursuit,  and  when  he  had  from 
sheer  exhaustion  almost  dropped  to  the  ground 
she  suddenly  turned  her  horse  about  and 
laughed  in  his  face.  It  was  an  awkward  sit- 
uation. The  perspiration  streamed  from  his 
forehead,  his  breath  came  in  gasps.  She  con- 
tinued laughing.  He  mopped  his  face  furi- 
ously, got  control  of  his  breath,  and  exclaimed 
in  deep  emotion: 

"  Sure  and  is  ridicule  all  I  get  when  I  have 
followed  you  for  ten  miles  on  this  baist  of  a 
horse,  to  offer  you  a  proposition  of  marriage?" 

Their  friendship  dated  from  that  moment, 
and  though  Larry  had  renewed  his  proposi- 
tion of  marriage  every  time  he  had  seen  her, 


278         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

yet  there  had  never  been  a  break  in  their  com- 
radeship. 

He  looked  about  the  well-appointed  camp 
with  a  sigh  of  contentment.  This  was  some- 
thing like  living,  he  thought.  His  enforced 
confinement  at  the  ranch  had  been  slow  tor- 
ture to  him.  He  missed  the  presence  of  Hope 
and  Sydney,  for  to  him  they  were  the  very 
spirit  of  the  place,  and  he  was  filled  with 
anxiety  to  get  away  from  it  and  join  them. 

After  washing  the  dust  from  his  face  and 
hands  he  went  through  the  cook's  mess-box, 
then,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  laid  down  for  a 
nap  on  one  of  the  bunks  in  the  second  tent 
and  was  soon  sleeping  peacefully. 

He  never  knew  just  how  long  he  slept, 
though  he  declared  he  had  not  closed  his  eyes, 
when  a  whispered  conversation  outside  the  tent 
brought  him  to  his  feet  with  a  start.  It  was 
suspicious  to  say  the  least,  and  he  tore  madly 
at  his  roll  of  belongings  in  search  of  his  re- 
volver, which  he  found  in  his  hip-pocket,  after 
he  had  scattered  his  clothes  from  one  end  of  the 
tent  to  the  other. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         279 

It  was  not  yet  dark.  The  whispers  came 
now  from  the  opposite  tent.  O'Hara's  fight- 
ing blood  was  up.  He  gloried  in  the  situation. 
Here  was  his  opportunity  to  hold  up  some 
thieving  rascals.  It  was  almost  as  good  as  be- 
ing a  real  desperado.  It  flashed  upon  him  that 
they  might  be  the  real  article,  but  he  would  not 
turn  coward.  He  would  show  them  what  one 
man  could  do  I 

He  peered  cautiously  out  of  the  tent.  Two 
horses  with  rough-looking  saddles  stood  at 
the  edge  of  the  brush  not  far  away.  Larry 
O'Hara  would  not  be  afraid  of  two  men. 

He  moved  cautiously  up  to  the  front  of  the 
cook-tent,  and  throwing  open  the  flap  called 
out  in  thundering  tones:  "Throw  up  your 
hands,  ye  thieving  scoundrels,  or  I'll  have 
your  loives ! " 

A  pair  of  arms  shot  up  near  him  like  a  flash, 
while  a  choking  sound  came  from  the  farther 
side  of  the  mess-box.  Two  startled,  pie-be- 
grimed boys  gazed  in  amazement  into  the  barrel 
of  Larry's  gun,  which  he  suddenly  lowered, 
overcome  with  surprise  as  great  as  their  own. 


280         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"May  heaven  preserve  us!"  he  cried.  "I 
thought  you  were  murdering  thieves!  But  if 
it's  only  supper  you're  after,  I'll  take  a  hand  in 
itmeself!" 

The  soft-voiced  twin  recovered  first. 

"Say,  where'd  you  come  from?  I  thought 
that  was  the  cook  sleepin'  in  there  an'  we  wasn't 
goin'  to  disturb  him  to  get  our  supper. 
What're  you  doin'  'round  here,  anyhow?" 

"I'm  a  special  officer  of  the  law,  on  the 
lookout  for  some  dangerous  criminals,"  replied 
Larry.  "  But  I  see  I've  made  a  great  mistake 
this  time.  It's  not  kids  I'm  after!  I'll  just 
put  this  weapon  back  in  my  pocket  to  show 
that  I'm  friendly  inclined.  And  now  let's  have 
something  to  eat.  You  boys  must  know  the 
ins  and  outs  of  this  place  pretty  well,  for  I 
couldn't  find  pie  here  when  I  came,  or  any- 
thing that  looked  loike  pie.  Where'd  you 
make  the  raise?" 

The  boys  began  to  breathe  easier,  although 
an  "officer  of  the  law"  was  something  of 
which  they  stood  in  mortal  terror.  Yet  this 
particular  "officer"  seemed  quite  a  jovial  sort 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         281 

of  a  fellow,  and  they  soon  reached  the  conclu- 
sion that  he  would  be  a  good  one  to  "stand 
in  "  with.  The  soft- voiced  twin  sighed  easily, 
and  settled  himself  into  a  f  amihar  position  at 
the  table,  remarking  as  he  did  so: 

"Oh,  we're  to  home  here!  This  camp  be- 
longs to  a  friend  of  ourn."  He  pulled  the 
pie  toward  him.  "Here,  Dave,"  he  said  to 
the  other,  who  had  also  recovered  from  his  sur- 
prise, "  throw  me  a  knife  from  over  there.  I 
reckon  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  eat  this  here  pie  with 
my  fingers  I  An'  get  out  some  plates  for  him 
an'  you.  No  use  waitin'  for  the  cook  to  come 
in  an'  get  our  supper.  Ain't  no  tellin'  where 
he's  gone." 

"You're  a  pretty  cool  kid,"  remarked 
O'Hara,  helping  himself  to  the  pie.  "  I'll  take 
a  piece  of  pie  with  you  for  company's  sake, 
though  I'm  inclined  to  wait  for  the  cook  of 
this  establishment.  A  good,  warm  meal  is 
more  to  my  liking.  Where  do  you  fellows 
live?" 

"Over  here  a  ways,"  replied  Dan  cau- 
tiously. 


282         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"  Know  of  any  bad  men  that  wants  arrest- 
ing?" continued  O'Hara.  "I'm  in  the  busi- 
ness at  present." 

"  I  reckon  I  do,"  replied  the  boy,  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  soft,  sweet  tone.  "There's  a 
mighty  dangerous  character  I  can  put  you 
onto  if  you'll  swear  you'll  never  give  me 
away." 

"  I'll  never  breathe  a  word  of  it,"  declared 
O'Hara;  "  just  point  out  your  man  to  me;  I'll 
fix  him  for  you ! " 

"What'll  you  do  to  him?"  asked  Dan,  in 
great  earnestness.     O'Hara  laughed. 

"  I'll  do  just  whativer  you  say,"  he  replied. 
"What's  his  crime?" 

"  WeU,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  the  boy  deliber- 
ately, while  Dave  listened  in  open-mouthed 
wonderment.  "He's  a  bad  character,  a 
tough  one!  He  gits  drunker'n  a  fool  and 
thinks  he  runs  the  earth,  an'  he  licks  his  chil- 
dren if  they  happen  to  open  their  heads!  I 
never  seen  him  steal  no  horses,  er  kill  anyone, 
but  he's  a  bad  man,  just  the  same,  an'  needs 
lockin'   up   for   'bout   six   months!"    Dave, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         283 

finally  comprehending  his  twin,  jumped  up 
and  down,  waving  his  arms  wildly  above  his 
head. 

"You  bet  you!  Lock  him  up,  that's  the 
checker!  Lock  the  old  man  in  jail,  an'  we  can 
do  just  as  we  want  to!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  But  you  know,"  said  O'Hara  impressively, 
his  eyes  twinkling  with  suppressed  merriment, 
"it's  like  this.  There's  a  law  that  says  if  a 
man — a  family  man — ^be  sent  to  jail  for  any- 
thing less  than  cold-blooded  murder,  his  in- 
tire  family  must  go  with  him  to  look  after  him. 
Didn't  you  ever  hear  of  that  new  law?  Now 
that  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  his  boys,  poor 
things!  It  would  be  worse  than  the  beat- 
ing they  get.  But  you  just  give  Larry 
O'Hara  the  tip,  and  the  whole  family'll  get 
sent  up!" 

"  Not  much  you  don't! "  roared  Dave  to  his 
twin,  who  for  the  instant  seemed  dumf ounded 
by  this  piece  of  news  from  the  "  officer  of  the 
law." 

"I  reckon,"  said  the  soft- voiced  schemer 
after  a  quiet  pause,  "  his  boys  'ud  rather  take 


284         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

the  lickin's  than  get  sent  up,  so  you  might  as 
well  let  him  alone.  You're  sure  there  ain't  no 
mistake  'bout  that?  Don't  seem  like  that's 
quite  right." 

"Surel"  replied  Larry,  enjoying  the  situ- 
ation to  its  full  extent. 

"Well,  I  ain't,"  decided  the  boy  finally. 
"  I'm  goin'  to  ask  the  teacher.  Mebby  you're 
loadin'  us.     You  bet  she'll  know! " 

Larry  O'  Hara  became  suddenly  awake  to  a 
new  interest.  "  Where  is  she — ^your  teacher? " 
he  inquired. 

"I  dunno,"  answered  the  boy.  "Mebby 
home." 

At  this  juncture  the  flap  of  the  tent  was 
pushed  open  and  in  bustled  the  little  English 
cook. 

All  three  of  the  occupants  started  guiltily, 
while  William  looked  from  his  visitors  to  the 
remnants  of  pie  upon  the  table  with  some  as- 
tonishment. 

"Well,  Hi'll  be  blowedl"  he  ejaculated. 
Then  noticing  that  O'Hara  was  not  an  ordi- 
nary specimen  of  Westerner,  he  changed  his 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         285 

expression  and  began  wagging  his  head,  offer- 
ing excuses  for  his  tardiness. 

"  I  had  orders  to  get  a  warm  bite  at  eight 
o'clock,  so  I  went  out  'untin'  a  bit  on  my  own 
account.     Did  you  come  far,  sir?" 

"All  the  way  from  Hathaway's  ranch," 
replied  Larry.  "And  the  way  I  took,  it 
couldn't  have  been  a  rod  less  than  a  him- 
dred  moiles.  Sure,  every  bone  in  me  body  is 
complaining ! " 

"  Too  bad,  that,"  condoled  William.  "  Hit's 
no  easy  road  to  find.  I  missed  hit  once,  my- 
self. I  think  I  seen  you  about  the  ranch, 
didn't  I?    What's  yer  name?" 

"I'm  O'Hara,"  he  replied.  "If  you 
haven't  seen  me,  you've  heard  about  me,  which 
amounts  to  the  same  thing.  I'm  glad  to  see 
you,  my  good  man,  for  I  began  to  suspect  that 
everyone  had  deserted  camp.  I  was  just  go- 
ing to  question  these  young  natives  here,  as 
to  the  whereabouts  of  the  owners  of  this  ranch, 
when  you  came  in." 

The  twins  were  sidling  toward  the  front 
of   the   tent   with   a   view   to   hasty   retreat 


286         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

when  the  cook  fixed  his  sharp  httle  eyes  upon 
them. 

"  Ain't  I  good  enough  to  yous  but  you  must 
come  an'  clean  out  all  my  pastry  when  my  back 
is  turned?  Hi'll  overlook  hit  this  time,  if  you 
get  out  an'  chop  me  some  wood.  'Urry  up 
now  an'  get  to  work!  for  they'll  all  be  along 
directly!"  The  boys  made  their  escape  from 
the  tent,  while  the  cook  continued:  "They 
all  went  out  'untin'  after  some  antelope,  way 
up  there  on  the  big  mountain.  They'll  be  in 
after  a  bit  for  a  bite  to  heat,  so  if  you'll  excuse 
me,  Hi'll  start  things  goin'." 

The  little  cook  put  on  his  apron  and  hustled 
about,  while  O'Hara  went  out  and  watched 
the  boys  break  up  some  sticks  of  wood  which 
they  brought  from  the  nearby  brush, 

"Here,  give  me  the  job,"  the  young  man 
finally  remarked.  "  It  belongs  to  me  by  rights 
for  keeping  you  talking  so  long.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  me  you'd  got  away  without  being 
seen.  Here,  hand  over  your  ax,  and  get 
along  home  with  you ! " 

"  Say,  you're  all  right,  if  you  do  belong  to 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         287 

the  law,"  said  Dave,  gladly  giving  up  the  ax. 
They  speedily  made  their  escape,  and  none  too 
soon,  for  as  they  disappeared  a  group  of  riders 
came  in  sight  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  brush 
and  soon  surrounded  the  wood-chopper  with 
hearty  words  of  welcome. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MY  dear  boy,  I'm  glad  to  see  you!" 
called  Sydney. 
"Larry  O'Hara  chopping  wood! 
Impossible! "declared  Hope,  as  Carter  rode 
on  past  her.  "It's  an  illusion — a  vanishing 
vision.    Our  eyes  deceive  us!" 

"  But  it  is  a  young  man  there,"  said  Louisa. 
"A  big  one  like  Mr.  Livingston,  not  so  slim 
like  Sydney — your  cousin." 

"  True  enough,"  laughed  Hope.  "  But  it  is 
the  occupation — ^the  ax,  Louisa,  dear.  I 
never  knew  Larry  to  do  a  stroke  of  work! " 

"Ach,  but  he  is  handsome!"  whispered 
Louisa. 

"  Don't  let  him  know  you  think  so,"  returned 
Hope.  "He's  spoiled  badly  enough  now." 
She  turned  to  the  man  who  rode  on  her  oppo- 
site side.  "  He's  from  the  ranch — one  of  the 
guests  from  New  York.     He's  the  dearest 

988 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         289 

character  I"  After  which  exclamation  she 
rode  ahead  and  greeted  the  newcomer. 

"  It  never  rains  but  it  pours,"  said  O'Hara, 
as  he  entered  the  tent  with  Hope  and  Louisa, 
while  Sydney  and  Livingston  remained  to 
take  care  of  the  horses.  "I  thought  awhile 
ago  that  I  was  stranded  in  a  wilderness,  and 
here  I  am  surrounded  by  beautiful  ladies  and 
foine  gentlemen!" 

"Right  in  your  natural  element,"  com- 
mented Hope.  "That's  why  I  couldn't  be- 
lieve my  eyes  when  I  saw  you  out  there  alone 
with  the  ax — Larry  O'Hara  chopping  fire- 
wood!" 

"Now,  what's  there  funny  about  that?" 
asked  Larry. 

"I  can't  explain  just  now,"  laughed  the 
girl.  "  But  tell  me,  did  you  have  any  trouble 
getting  over  here?  Jim  started  for  the  ranch 
this  afternoon.  Didn't  you  meet  him  on  the 
road?" 

"Not  one  living  soul,"  replied  Larry. 
"  For  I  took  a  road  nobody  ever  traveled  be- 
fore." 


290         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"  And  got  lost,"  said  Hope. 

"Yes,  about  four  hundred  toimes!" 

"  And  yet  you  live  to  tell  the  tale  I  I'm  aw- 
fully glad  to  see  you,  Larry!  Let's  have  a 
light  in  here,  William,  it's  getting  dark,"  she 
said. 

The  cook  hustled  about,  and  soon  two 
lanterns,  suspended  from  each  end  of  the  ridge 
pole,  flooded  the  tent  with  light. 

"  Now  I  can  see  you,"  exclaimed  O'Hara  to 
Hope,  who  had  taken  a  seat  upon  a  box  beside 
Louisa.  "  You're  looking  f  oine  1  The  moun- 
tains must  agree  with  you — and  your  friend 
also,"  he  added. 

"Louisa  is  always  fine!  Are  you  not?" 
asked  Hope. 

Louisa  laughed  in  her  quiet  little  way. 
"  The  young  man  is  very  polite ! " 

Sydney  opened  the  flap  of  the  tent  and 
looked  in,  then  turned  back  again  for  an 
instant. 

"That'll  be  all  right  there,  Livingston. 
There  won't  a  thing  touch  it  up  that  treel 
Come  along  in  and  get  some  chuck! " 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         291 

"All  right!"  came  the  reply  from  the  edge 
of  the  brush.  Then  Carter  came  inside  and 
drew  up  a  seat  beside  the  two  girls. 

"What's  that  you  said,  Miss  Louisa?"  he 
asked.  "  I  didn't  quite  catch  it.  You  surely 
weren't  accusing  Larry  of  'politeness!" 

The  girl  bit  her  little  white  teeth  into  the  red 
of  her  lower  lip.  Her  cheeks  flushed  and  the 
dimples  came  and  went  in  the  delicate  coloring. 

"Was  it  wrong  to  say?"  she  asked  hesitat- 
ingly. 

"Not  if  it  was  true,"  he  replied.  "It's 
never  wrong  to  tell  the  truth,  even  in  Mon- 
tana." 

"Oh,  Syd,  don't  plague  her  I  Larry  in- 
cluded her  in  a  little  flattery — a  compliment; 
and  she  merely  remarked  upon  his  extreme 
politeness." 

"And  I  am  completely  squelched,"  said 
O'Hara  despairingly. 

"Then  you  shouldn't  try  to  flatter  twa 
people  at  once,"  declared  Hope. 

"American  girls  aren't  so  honest,"  said  Car- 
ter, looking  soberly  into  Louisa's  blue  eyes. 


292         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

She  regained  her  composure  with  a  little 
toss  of  her  head. 

"An  American  girl  is  my  best  friend — ^you 
shall  say  nodings  about  dem!  Ah,  here  comes 
Mr.  Livingston  mit  de  beautiful  horns  which 
he  gif  to  mel "  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands. 

"They're  beauties,  aren't  they?"  said  Liv- 
ingston, holding  up  the  antlers  to  view.  "  I'll 
get  some  of  the  Indians  around  here  to  fix 
them  up  for  you."  He  took  them  outside 
again,  then  came  in  and  joined  the  others 
around  the  camp  table. 

"Mr.  Livingston  was  the  lucky  one  to- 
day," said  Hope  to  O'Hara;  "but  we  had  a 
great  hunt." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  got  him,"  said 
Livingston,  seating  himself  beside  her.  "I 
am  positive  another  shot  was  fired  at  the  same 
time,  but  I  looked  around  and  saw  no  one. 
You  came  up  a  few  moments  afterward.  Miss 
Hathaway,  and  I  have  had  a  sort  of  rankling 
suspicion  ever  since  that  there  was  some 
mystery  about  it." 

"  Then  clear  your  mind  of  it  at  once,"  re- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         293 

plied  the  girl.  "  I'll  admit  that  I  fired  a  shot 
at  the  same  instant  you  did,  but  I  was  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  brush  from  where  you 
were,  and  didn't  see  the  antelope  at  all.  What 
I  aimed  at  was  a  large  black  speck  in  the  sky 
above  me,  and  this  is  my  trophy."  She  drew 
from  her  belt  a  glossy,  dark  eagle's  feather, 
and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  May  I  have  this? "  he  asked,  taking  it  from 
her. 

"Why,  certainly,"  she  answered  carelessly. 

O'Hara  had  been  looking  at  Livingston 
closely,  as  though  extremely  perplexed  by  his 
appearance.  Suddenly  he  gave  a  deep  laugh, 
jumped  up  from  his  seat  and  began  shaking 
him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"Well,  if  this  isn't " 

^'Edward  Livingston/^  interrupted  the 
other  briefly. 

"  But  who'd  ever  dream  of  seeing  you  here 
in  this  country  I  "  continued  O'Hara.  "  It  was 
too  dark  to  see  you  distinctly  when  you  rode 
up,  or  I'd  have  known  you  at  once.  I'm  glad 
to  see  you;  indeed,  I  am,  sir!" 


294         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"How  romantic!"  exclaimed  Hope. 
"Where  did  you  ever  meet  Larry,  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston?" 

"I  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  Mr. 
O'Hara  at  the  home  of  an  acquaintance  near 
London  two  or  three  years  ago.  I  am  very 
glad  to  have  the  pleasure  again."  O'Hara 
was  about  to  say  something  in  reply  to  this, 
but  thought  better  of  it,  and  remained  silent, 
while  Livingston  continued:  "I  never  im- 
agined that  I  should  meet  my  Irish- American 
friend  in  this  far  country,  though  you  Ameri- 
cans do  have  a  way  of  appearing  in  the  most 
unexpected  places.  This  America  is  a  great 
country.  I  like  it — in  fact,  well  enough  that 
I  have  now  become  one  of  its  citizens." 

"  But  you  have  not  left  England  for  good  I" 
exclaimed  O'Hara. 

"  For  good,  and  for  all  time,"  replied  Liv- 
ingston, the  youthful  expression  of  his  face 
settling  into  maturer  lines  of  sadness.  "I 
have  not  one  tie  left.  My  friend,  Carter  here, 
will  tell  you  that  I  have  settled  down  in  these 
mountains   as   a   respectable   sheep-man — ^re- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         295 

spectable,  if  not  dearly  beloved.  Miss  Hatha- 
way does  not  believe  there  can  be  anything 
respectable  about  the  sheep  business,  but  I 
have  promised  to  convert  her.  Is  that  not  so?  " 
he  asked,  turning  to  her. 

"  He  has  promised  to  give  me  a  pet  lamb  to 
take  back  to  the  ranch,"  she  said,  laughing, 
"  I  shall  put  a  collar  on  its  neck  and  lead  it  by 
a  blue  ribbon!  At  least  it  will  be  as  good  an 
ornament  as  Clarice  Van  Rensselaer's  poodle. 
Horrible  little  thing!" 

"Now  just  imagine  the  beautiful  Mrs. 
Larry  O'Hara  trailing  that  kind  of  a  baist 
about  the  streets  of  New  York!  I  move  that 
the  animal  be  rejected  with  thanks!"  ex- 
claimed Larry.  Livingston  looked  at  him  in 
quiet  amazement,  then  at  Hope  and  Sydney 
to  see  how  they  took  his  audacity. 

"  Don't  worry,  Larry,  dear,"  replied  Hope. 
"The  pet  lamb  hasn't  been  accepted  yet — or 
you,  either!  I  shall  probably  choose  the  pet 
lamb,  but  rely  on  my  good  judgment,  that's  a 
nice  boy,  and  don't  let  such  a  little  matter 
bother  you  I" 


296         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

Larry  heaved  an  unnaturally  deep  sigh,  at 
which  little  Louisa  laughed,  and  Sydney  pat- 
ted him  upon  the  shoulder,  exclaiming: 

"  Cheer  up  1  You  have  an  even  chance  with 
the  lamb.  You  don't  need  to  be  afraid  of  such 
a  rival!" 

"But  she  says  herself  that  the  animal's 
chances  are  the  best,"  said  Larry  dismally. 
Then  with  a  sudden  inspiration:  "How 
much'll  you  take  for  that  baist?  I'll  buy  him 
of  you — Mr,  Livingston!" 

"  Now's  your  chance  to  make  some  money! " 
cried  Sydney. 

Livingston  quickly  entered  the  mood  of  the 
moment. 

"Miss  Hathaway  has  an  option  on  the 
lamb,"  he  said,  looking  at  her.  "  If  she  wants 
to  throw  it  up  I  shall  be  glad  to  sell  it 
to  you." 

"  She  wants  her  supper  mostly  now,"  said 
Hope.  "  Come  on,  let's  eat,  for  we  must  get 
back.  See  all  the  fine  things  Wilham  has  pre- 
pared for  us!" 

After  the  meal,  when  the  girls  rose  to  de- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         297 

part,  Larry  insisted  upon  accompanying  them 
home. 

"  I  am  going  along,  too,"  laughed  Sydney, 
"so  I'll  see  that  he  gets  back  to  camp  all 
right!    You  might  as  well  let  him  go,  Hope." 

"Well,  if  he  is  so  foolish,  after  his  hard 
day's  ride,"  she  said,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders.  "  But  get  him  a  fresh  horse,  Syd- 
ney. At  least  we  can  spare  the  poor  tired 
animal ! " 

Sydney  and  O'Hara  both  went  a  short  dis- 
tance away  to  get  the  saddle-horse  which  was 
feeding  quietly  on  the  hillside.  Hope  led  her 
horse  down  to  the  water  and  while  it  was  drink- 
ing Livingston  came  and  stood  beside  her. 

For  a  moment  they  remained  there  quiet, 
side  by  side,  then  the  man  spoke: 

"It  is  of  such  as  this  that  life's  sweetest 
moments  are  made.  It  seems  almost  a  sac- 
rilege to  break  the  spell,  but  I  cannot  always 
be  silent.    You  know  I  love  you,  Hope! " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  carelessly,  "  I  believe  you 
told  me  so  once  before."  For  an  instant  he 
did  not  speak.     "It  was  here  at  the  camp. 


298         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

another  evening  like  this,  wasn't  it?"  she  con- 
tinued, in  quite  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"  I  will  not  believe  that  you  have  forgotten 
it,"  he  exclaimed  softly.  "It  may  have 
sounded  foolish  to  you  to  hear  the  words,  but 
I  could  not  help  saying  them ! "  He  stood  so 
close  to  her  that  he  could  feel  her  warm  breath. 
"  It  may  be  wrong  to  stand  here  with  you  now, 
alone.  How  quiet  it  is!  You  and  I  together 
in  a  little  world  of  our  own!  How  I  love  you, 
my  girl,  love  you!  I  may  not  have  the  right 
to  this  much  happiness,  but  there  is  no  moral 
law  that  man  or  God  has  made  to  prevent  a 
man  from  saying  to  the  woman  he  loves,  *I 
love  you!'  Are  you — ^^do  you  care  that  I  have 
said  it?" 

"  You  must  not — tell  me  again,"  she  said,  in 
a  voice  so  forced  that  it  seemed  to  belong  to 
some  other  person.  Then  she  turned  abruptly 
and  led  her  horse  past  him,  up  the  bank  of  the 
creek,  to  Louisa  waiting  before  the  tent. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IN  the  cool  of  evening,  between  dark  and 
moonrise,  the  time  when  night  is  blackest, 

and  shadows  hang  like  a  pall  over  moun- 
tain top  and  crag,  a  small  group  of  men  might 
have  been  seen  lounging  before  old  Mother 
White  Blanket's  tepee,  absorbing  the  genial 
warmth  that  came  from  her  camp-fire,  over 
which  the  old  squaw  hovered  close. 

In  the  background,  away  from  the  group, 
yet  still  with  the  light  of  the  fire  shining 
full  upon  him,  stood  the  so  ft- voiced  twin. 
Suddenly  the  hawk-like  eyes  of  his  grand- 
mother swept  the  darkness  and  fastened  them- 
selves upon  his  inquisitive  face.  For  an  in- 
stant they  pierced  him  through,  then  the  shrill 
voice  rang  out : 

"  Sol  It's  only  the  sneak-dog  that  dare  not 
come  near  I     You  get  out  and  hunt  your  bed  I " 

"  I  ain't  doin'  nothin' ! "  exclaimed  the  boy, 

d99 


300         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"No!  An'  you'll  live  doin'  nothin',  an'  die 
doin'  nothin',  with  a  rope  about  your  neck, 
so!"  She  made  a  quick  motion  across  her 
throat,  and  gurgled  heinously,  letting  her 
blanket  fall  low  upon  her  skinny,  calico  cov- 
ered shoulders,  revealing  a  long,  gaunt  throat 
and  stiff  wisps  of  black,  unkempt  hair. 

"You  don't  need  to  think  you  can  scare 
me"  said  the  boy,  moving  boldly  forward,  im- 
pelled by  fear.  "  I  ain't  sneakin'  'round  here, 
neither !  You'd  better  be  a  little  politer  er  I'll 
tell  the  old  man  on  you  when  he  gets  sober 
again!" 

"  Hear  him ! "  roared  Shorty  Smith.  "  Po- 
liter! I  reckon  the  school-ma'am's  instillin' 
some  mighty  high-flutin'  notions  into  your 
head,  ain't  she?  Politer!  Just  listen  to  that 
onct,  will  yous!  Say,  don't  no  one  dare 
breathe  loud  when  Mister  Daniel  Harris, 
esquire,  comes  round ! " 

"You  let  your  betters  alone,"  rebuked  the 
old  woman,  shaking  a  stick  at  Shorty,  prelimi- 
nary to  throwing  it  upon  the  fire.  "My 
grandson's  got  more  in  his  head  than  all  of 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         301 

you!"  Then  nodding  at  the  boy  who,  embold- 
ened, had  come  up  to  the  fire :  "  Say  what's  on 
your  tongue  an'  git  off  to  bed  with  you ! " 

The  breed  boy  shook  his  head.  "I  ain't 
got  nothin'  to  tell,"  he  said.  "Hain't  been 
nowhere  except  over  to  Carter's  camp  awhile. 
Dave  and  me  pretty  near  got  nabbed  by  a 
special  officer  that's  over  there." 

Shorty  Smith  raised  himself  up  on  his 
elbow. 

"A  special  what!"  he  demanded,  while  a 
sort  of  stillness  swept  the  circle. 

"A  special  officer  of  the  law"  replied  the 
boy,  with  cool  importance.  "  Dave  an'  me  had 
supper  with  him.  He's  a  pretty  good  sort  of 
a  feller." 

"Nice  company  you've  been  in,"  observed 
Shorty. 

"  Your  grandmother  always  said  you'd  come 
to  some  bad  end,"  drawled  Long  Bill.  An  un- 
easy laugh  went  around,  then  absolute  silence 
prevailed  for  several  minutes.  The  old  squaw 
seemed  to  be  muttering  under  her  breath. 
Finally  she  shifted  her  savage  gaze  from  the 


302         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

outer  blackness  to  the  faces  about  her  camp- 
fire. 

"Turn  cowards  for  one  man!"  she  ex- 
claimed scornfully. 

"  Well,  Harris  is  in  there  dead  drunk,  and 
what're  we  goin'  to  do  without  him,  anyhow? " 
exclaimed  Long  Bill. 

"He  might  not  approve,"  supplemented 
Shorty  Smith. 

"That's  right;  I  ain't  wantin'  no  such  re- 
sponsibility on  my  shoulders,  just  now''  de- 
clared the  large  fellow. 

"We'll  postpone  matters,"  decided  Shorty. 
"  I  ain't  after  such  responsibility  myself,  you 
can  bet  your  life ! " 

The  others  agreed  by  words  and  grunts. 
Suddenly  the  old  woman  rose  to  her  feet, 
grasping  her  dingy  blanket  together  in  front 
with  one  scrawny  hand,  while  she  outstretched 
the  other,  pointing  into  the  night. 

"Git  out!"  she  snarled  scornfully.  "Git 
to  your  beds,  dogs ! " 

The  men  laughed  again  uneasily. 

"  Come    on,    boys,"    said    Shorty    Smith. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         303 

"  We'll  go  an'  see  if  the  old  man's  left  a  drop 
in  his  jug."  He  moved  towards  the  house,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others.  The  soft-voiced  twin 
still  retained  his  position  by  the  camp-fire. 

"You  git  tool"  snarled  his  grandmother. 

"I  ain't  no  dog,"  replied  the  boy.  The 
squaw  grunted.  "You  told  the  dogs  to  go, 
not  me!  They  won't  find  any  demijohn, 
neither.     I  cached  it  for  you! " 

**  Good  boy,"  said  his  grandmother,  patting 
him  upon  upon  the  head.     "  Go  git  it ! " 

When  Hope  and  her  companions  returned 
that  evening-  a  couple  of  aged  Indians  hovered 
over  the  dying  embers  of  old  White  Blanket's 
camp-fire,  sociably  drinking  from  a  rusty  tin 
cup  what  the  riders  naturally  supposed  to  be 
tea.  The  soft-voiced  twin,  already  curled  up 
asleep  beside  his  brothers,  could  have  told 
them  different,  for  had  he  not  won  the  old 
woman's  passing  favor  by  his  generous  act? 
So  he  slept  well. 

So  did  the  "old  man"  sleep  well  that  night 
— a  heavy  drunken  stupor.  He  had  returned 
from  town  that  afternoon  in  his  usual  condi- 


304         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

tion,  as  wild-eyed  as  the  half -broken  horses  that 
he  drove,  and  for  awhile  made  things  lively 
about  the  place.  At  such  times  he  ruled  with 
a  high  and  mighty  hand,  and  even  the  little 
babies  crept  out  of  his  way  as  he  approached. 
He  roused  up  some  of  the  idle  breeds  and 
started  a  poker  game,  which  soon  broke  up, 
owing  to  a  financial  deficiency  among  them. 
Then  he  roped  a  wild-looking  stallion  and  rode 
off  at  a  mad  gait,  without  any  apparent  object, 
toward  a  peacefully  feeding  bunch  of  cattle. 
He  rode  around  it,  driving  the  cows  and  calves 
into  a  huddled,  frightened  group,  then  left 
them  to  recover  their  composure,  riding,  still 
as  madly  as  ever,  back  to  the  stables.  But  the 
whisky  finally  got  in  its  work,  and  Joe  Har- 
ris, to  the  great  relief  of  his  Indian  ^vife  and 
family,  laid  himself  away  in  a  corner  of  the 
kitchen,  and  peace  again  reigned  supreme. 

Hope  and  Louisa  very  fortunately  missed 
all  the  excitement. 

The  darkness  was  intense  when  they  rode 
up  to  the  ranch.  Quiet  pervaded  the  place, 
and  not  a  light  shone  from  the  house. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         305 

"These  people  must  go  to  bed  with  the 
chickens,"  remarked  O'Hara. 

"  Here's  some  matches,  Hope,"  said  Carter, 
standing  beside  her  on  the  ground  when  she 
had  dismounted.  "Never  mind  your  horses, 
I'll  take  care  of  them.  Run  right  in.  Such  a 
place  for  you  I  Darker'n  a  stack  of  black 
cats!  I'll  stand  here  by  the  house  till  I  see  a 
light  in  your  room." 

Just  then  a  group  of  men,  led  by  Shorty 
Smith,  came  out  of  the  dark  passage  between 
the  kitchen  and  the  other  part  of  the  house, 
and  made  their  way  toward  the  stables.  The 
ones  in  the  rear  did  not  see  the  riders,  and  were 
muttering  roughly  among  themselves.  They 
had  been  making  another  fruitless  search  for 
the  cattle-man's  whisky,  and  were  now  going 
to  bed. 

"Come  back  here,"  said  Sydney,  drawing 
both  girls  toward  the  horses  which  O'Hara 
was  holding.  They  moved  backward  under 
his  grasp  and  waited  until  the  men  had 
passed. 

"Hope,  you'll  either  have  to  change  your 


806         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

boarding  place  or  go  home,"  announced  her 
cousin. 

"  I'll  do  neither,"  replied  the  girl  decisively. 
"  Don't  be  foolish,  Syd,  because  of  a  darkened 
house  and  a  handful  of  harmless  menl  I'm 
not  a  baby,  either.  You'll  make  Larry  think 
I'm  a  very  helpless  sort  of  person.  Don't  be- 
lieve him,  Larry!  I'll  admit  that  this  isn't 
always  a  safe  country  for  men,  but  there  is  no 
place  on  earth  where  a  woman  is  surer  of  pro- 
tection than  among  these  same  wild,  dare-devil 
characters.  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about. 
Home?  Well,  I  guess  notl  Come  on,  Louisa. 
See,  she  isn't  afraid!  Are  you?  Good-night, 
both  of  you!" 

"  Goot-night,"  called  the  German  girl. 

"It's  just  as  she  says,"  explained  Carter, 
as  he  and  O'Hara  rode  homeward.  "  It  is 
perfectly  safe  for  a  girl  out  here,  in  spite  of 
the  tough  appearances  of  things — far  safer 
than  in  the  streets  of  New  York  or  Chicago. 
There  isn't  a  man  in  the  country  that  would 
dare  speak  disrespectfully  to  a  girl.  Horse- 
stealing wouldn't  be  an  instance  compared  with 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         307 

what  he'd  get  for  that.  He'd  meet  his  end  so 
quick  he  wouldn't  have  time  to  say  his  prayers  I 
That's  the  way  we  do  things  in  this  country, 
you  know." 

"It's  hard  to  understand  this,  judging 
from  appearances,"  said  O'Hara.  "I'm  not 
exactly  a  coward  myself,  but  I  must  own  it 
gave  me  a  chill  all  down  my  spine  when  those 
tough-looking  specimens  began  to  pour  out 
from  that  crack  between  the  buildings.  I'd 
think  it  would  make  a  girl  feel  nervous." 

"But  not  Hope,"  replied  Carter.  "She's 
used  to  it;  besides  she's  not  like  other  girls. 
She's  as  fearless  as  a  lion.  You  can't  scare 
her.  If  she  was  a  little  more  timid  I  wouldn't 
think  about  worrying  over  her,  but  she's  so 
blame  self-reliant!  She  knows  she's  as  quick 
as  chain  lightning,  and  she's  chockful  of  con- 
fidence. For  my  own  part,  I  wish  she'd  never 
learned  to  shoot  a  gun." 

"  It  strikes  me  she's  pretty  able  to  take  care 
of  herself,"  said  O'Hara.  "  If  I  were  you  I 
wouldn't  worry  over  it." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  get  her  back  to  the  ranch. 


308  HOPE     HATHAWAY 

and  I'm  going  to,  too! "  said  Carter.  Then  to 
O'Hara's  look  of  wonder,  "  I  might  as  well  be 
in  Halifax  as  any  real  good  I  can  be  to  her 
here — in  ease  anything  should  come  up.  You 
see,  there's  been  trouble  brewing  for  months. 
All  these  men  around  here  are  down  on  Liv- 
ingston, because  he's  running  sheep  on  the 
range  they  had  begun  to  think  was  their  own 
exclusive  property.  He's  as  much  right  to  run 
sheep  on  government  land  as  they  have  to  run 
cattle,  though  sheep  are  a  plumb  nuisance  in 
a  cow  country.  These  ranchers  around  here 
haven't  any  use  for  his  sheep  at  all,  and  have 
been  picking  at  him  ever  since  he  came  up 
here." 

He  then  went  on  to  tell  what  he  knew  about 
the  shooting  at  Livingston's  corral. 

"I'm  pretty  certain  now  that  Hope  was 
mixed  up  in  it,  though  Livingston  is  as  igno- 
rant as  can  be  in  regard  to  the  matter.  He's 
too  much  a  stranger  to  the  ways  of  the  country 
to  learn  everything  in  a  minute.  It  was  funny 
about  you  knowing  him,  wasn't  it?  He's  a 
fine  man,  all  right,  and  I  hope  this  outfit  won't 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         309 

bluff  him  out  of  the  country.  Harris  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  If  it  wasn't  for  him  there 
wouldn't  be  any  trouble.  Now  it's  my  opinion 
that  Hope's  trying  to  stand  off  the  whole  out- 
fit for  Livingston's  sake,  and  doesn't  want 
him  to  know  it." 

O'Hara  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  re- 
plied : 

"  I'm  not  the  fellow  to  make  a  fuss  because 
a  better  man  than  me  turns  up.  I  knew  in  a 
minute  he  was  dead  in  love  with  her." 

Then  he  told  something  to  Carter  in  con- 
fidence which  caused  him  to  pull  his  horse  up 
suddenly  in  the  trail  and  exclaim:  "You 
don't  say  I" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IT  is  a  long  road,"  observed  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer.  "  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  far. 
So  these  are  the  foot-hills  of  the  moun- 
tains. Is  this  Harris  place  very  much  far- 
ther?" 

"'Bout  five  mile  straight  up  in  the  moun- 
tains," replied  her  companion. 

"Then,"  said  the  lady  decisively,  "I  am 
going  to  stop  here  at  this  spring,  get  a  drink, 
and  rest  awhile ;  I'm  about  half  dead  1 " 

Jim  McCuUen  made  no  reply,  but  good- 
naturedly  headed  his  horse  toward  a  tiny 
stream  that  trickled  down  a  coulee  near  by. 
Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  followed,  heaving  a  tired 
sigh  of  relief  as  shs  slipped  down  upon  the 
moist,  flower-dotted  meadows  beside  the 
stream. 

"Oh,  this  is  an  awful  undertaking,"  she 

310 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         311 

declared,  wetting  her  handkerchief  in  the 
water  and  carefully  wiping  her  forehead. 

"I  thought  you  was  pretty  brave  to  ven- 
ture it,"  replied  old  Jim,  from  a  short  distance 
below,  where  he  was  watering  the  horses, 
"  It's  a  hot  day  and  a  dry  wind.  I  told  you 
just  how  it'd  be." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  some  comfort  to  you  to  refer 
to  that  fact,  but  it  doesn't  make  me  any  the 
less  tired  or  cross.  Yes,  I'm  cross,  Mr.  Mc- 
Cullen.  It  has  been  downright  rude  of  Hope 
to  stay  away  like  this  all  summer.  Of  course 
it's  possible  she  may  have  her  reasons  for  that, 
but  I  never  put  in  such  a  pokey  time  before  in 
all  my  life  I  I  couldn't  go  back  to  New  York 
without  seeing  her,  and  then  Sydney  told  me 
that  if  I  went  up  there  I  might  be  able  to  coax 
her  to  leave  the  place.  But  she's  been  there 
so  long  now — a  couple  of  months,  isn't  it? — 
that  I  can't  see  what  difference  it  would  make 
if  she  stayed  a  little  longer.  I  did  want  to  see 
her,  though,  before  I  went  home,  so  I  decided 
I'd  undertake  this  journey.  What  about  this 
protegee    of   hers — this    German    girl    she's 


312         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

taken  to  raise?  Sydney  said  she  was  a  pretty 
little  thing  with  hair  the  color  of  mine,"  shak- 
ing back  her  fluff  of  fair  hair,  "and  eyes  like  a 
*deep  blue  lake/  That's  all  I  could  get  out 
of  him — *eyes  like  a  deep  blue  lake!'  That 
settles  it!  When  a  fellow  begins  to  rhapsody 
over  eyes  like  a  deep  blue  lake,  it's  a  good  sign 
he's  cast  his  anchor  right  there.  Well,  it'll  be 
a  good  thing  for  Sydney." 

"  She's  a  right  smart  young  lady,"  remarked 
McCuUen.  "Hope  thinks  a  sight  of  her. 
She  can  ride  a  little,  but  she  ain't  goin'  to 
learn  to  shoot  worth  a  cent.  Hand  ain't 
steady  'nough.  They  ain't  many  wimmen  in 
the  world  can  shoot  like  Hope,  though!  She 
beats 'em  all!" 

"  You  ought  to  be  awfully  proud  to  think 
you  taught  her." 

"Proud!"  said  old  Jim,  his  voice  deep  with 
emotion;  "I  reckon  I'm  proud  of  her  in  every 
way — not  just  because  she  can  shoot.  They 
ain't  no  one  like  her !  I  couldn't  think  no  more 
of  her  if  she  was  my  own,  ma'am." 

"It  must  be  nice  to  feel  that  way  toward 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         313 

someone,"  mused  the  lady,  from  the  grass. 
"  She  thinks  everything  of  you,  too.  It  seems 
natural  for  some  people  to  take  a  kindly,  lov- 
ing interest  in  almost  everyone.  There  are 
only  two  people  I  have  ever  known  toward 
whom  I  have  felt  in  anything  approaching 
that  manner.  Hope  and  Larry  O'Hara.  I 
have  often  fancied  they  would  make  an  ideal 
couple."  Jim  McCullen  shook  his  head 
doubtfully,  but  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer,  unnotic- 
ing,  continued:  "And  even  Larry  deserted 
the  ranch.  He's  been  gone  for  two  weeks. 
It's  about  time  I  came  to  look  everyone  up ! " 
She  pinned  back  the  fluffy  hair  from  her  face, 
adjusted  her  hat,  unclasped  a  tiny  mirror  and 
powder  puff  from  her  wrist,  and  carefully 
dusted  every  portion  of  her  pretty  face. 

McCullen,  who  had  witnessed  the  operation 
several  times  before  along  the  road  that  day, 
ceased  to  stare  in  wonderment,  and  very  po- 
litely looked  across  the  rolling  hills  in  the  oppo- 
site direction.  It  never  occurred  to  Clarice 
Van  Rensselaer  that  anyone  could  have  found 
amusement  in  the  proceedings.     In  fact,  she 


314         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

never  thought  of  it  at  all,  but  dabbed  the 
powder  pufF  quite  mechanically  from  force  of 
habit. 

After  laughing  to  himself  and  giving  her 
time  enough  to  complete  her  toilet,  he  led  her 
horse  up,  remarking: 

"  We'd  better  be  movin',  er  like  enough  we 
won't  get  there  till  after  dark." 

Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  sighed,  regained  her 
feet,  and  suffered  herself  to  be  helped  to  the 
saddle. 

"  I  reckon  you  won't  find  O'Hara  up  there," 
remarked  Jim  McCullen  some  time  later. 
"  Two  evenings  ago  he  rode  over  on  Fox  Creek, 
there  on  the  reservation,  where  them  soldiers 
are  out  practicin'.  Lieutenant  Harvey  come 
over  to  camp  an'  he  rode  back  with  him,  bein's 
he  was  acquainted.  It  ain't  more'n  eight  mile 
from  camp.  Mebby  you  could  ride  over  there 
if  you  wanted."  This  suggestion  was  offered 
with  the  faintest  smile  beneath  his  gray  mus- 
tache. "  It's  a  mighty  fine  chance  to  see  them 
soldiers  drillin'  'round  the  hills,  playin'  at  sham 
battles  and  the  like." 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         315 

"It  would  probably  be  a  pleasing  sight  to 
see  them,"  replied  Clarice  Van  Rensselaer, 
"but  I  prefer  an  easy  chair  with  plenty  of 
cushions  instead." 

"  I  don't  like  to  discourage  you,  but  I  don't 
reckon  you'll  find  many  cushions  where  you're 
goin',"  said  old  Jim. 

"How  much  farther  is  it?"  demanded  the 
lady. 

"Oh,  not  very  fur,  'bout  three  mile,  er  a 
Httle  further,"  replied  her  companion;  there- 
upon Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  rode  on  for  some 
time  in  scornful,  silent  resignation. 

When  they  reached  the  Harris  ranch  they 
found  groups  of  men  lounging  about  every- 
where. 

It  looked  as  though  most  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  mountains  had  congregated  there  on 
this  especial  evening.  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer 
gasped  in  astonishment,  and  even  McCuUen, 
used  as  he  was  to  seeing  men  gathered  about 
the  place,  looked  surprised  and  wondered 
what  had  been  going  on  to  bring  such  a 
crowd. 


816         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  gathered  her  skirts 
closely  about  her,  as  if  in  fear  they  would  brush 
against  some  of  the  rough-looking  men  that 
moved  back  from  the  path  as  McCuUen  led 
her  to  the  house.  A  couple  of  pigs  chased  by 
a  yellow  pup  ran  past  her,  then  an  Indian 
woman  opened  wide  the  main  entrance  of 
the  abode  and  shooed  out  some  squawking 
chickens,  which  flew  straight  at  the  visi- 
tor. Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  hesitated  in  dis- 
may, and  turned  a  white,  startled  face  to 
McCullen. 

"  This  ain't  nothin'  at  all,"  he  assured  her. 
"Go  right  on  in.  I  reckon  we'll  find  Miss 
Hope  to  home." 

She  drew  back  still  farther.  "  You  go  first," 
she  implored  fearfully. 

McCullen  smiled,  and  picked  his  way 
into  the  house,  followed  closely  by  his  com- 
panion, who  clung  to  his  coat. 

Reaching  the  interior  he  seated  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer  upon  a  bench,  and  went  in  search 
of  the  Indian  woman,  who  had  disappeared  at 
the  first  sight  of  the  visitors. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         317 

"  She's  out,"  he  announced,  returning  after 
a  moment.  "  They  say  she  and  the  little  Ger- 
man girl  went  out  on  their  horses  some  time 
ago.  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  wait  here  till  she 
gets  back.    You  ain't  afraid,  be  you? " 

"Do  you  mean  that  I'll  have  to  wait  here 
alone?  "  she  inquired,  frightened. 

"  I'll  stay  around  f er  a  spell,"  said  McCul- 
len  kindly.  "  There  ain't  nothing  to  get  nervous 
about."  He  opened  the  door  of  an  adjoining 
room  and  beckoned  to  a  breed  girl,  who  was 
lulling  a  child  to  sleep  in  an  Indian  hammock. 
"  Come  in  and  keep  this  lady  company.  She's 
come  to  see  Miss  Hathaway,"  he  said.  The 
girl  entered  the  room  shyly — reluctantly.  Jim 
McCullen  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and 
turned  to  the  door.  "  I'll  look  about  a  bit  an' 
see  if  she's  comin',"  he  said,  then  went  out  of 
the  house. 

The  girl  was  shy,  and  stood  awkwardly  in 
the  doorway  with  downcast  eyes,  not  daring  to 
look  up  at  the  visitor.  Clarice  fancied  herself 
too  tired  to  talk,  so  sat  on  the  bench  and  leaned 
back  against  the  white-washed  logs.     Quiet 


318         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

pervaded  until  a  pig  poked  open  the  door  and 
looked  inquisitively  into  the  room. 

"Oh,  drive  that  animal  out!'*  exclaimed 
Clarice,  "he's  coming  straight  at  me!" 

The  girl  gave  the  pig  a  poke  that  sent  it 
grunting  away,  then  closed  the  door  and 
placed  a  box  before  it  to  keep  it  shut. 

"Will  you  kindly  take  me  to  Miss  Hatha- 
way's  apartment?"  asked  Mrs.  Van  Rensse- 
laer. 

The  breed  girl  looked  bewildered.  'To 
where?"  she  asked. 

"To  her  room,"  requested  the  lady,  less 
politely.  "I  suppose  she  has  a  room  in  this 
place,  has  she  not?  I  should  like  to  rest  for  a 
few  moments." 

"It's  right  there,"  said  the  girl  shortly, 
pointing  at  a  door. 

"  Right  there  I "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  Rensse- 
laer crossly.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me  so 
before?" 

Clarice  opened  the  door  and  gasped  in 
wonder.  A  vision  of  Hope's  room  at 
the    ranch,    with    all    its    dainty    accessories, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         319 

came  before  her,  and  she  thought  of  the 
girl's  love  of  luxury  and  comfort.  Every- 
thing was  clean  here,  she  assured  herself  with 
another  glance  around — spotlessly  clean  and 
neat,  which  could  not  be  said  of  the  room  she 
had  just  left.  There  was  a  bed,  a  chair,  a  box 
and  some  boards  covered  with  cheese-cloth, 
that  served  as  a  dressing  table.  Not  a  picture 
adorned  the  wall  or  an  ornament  of  any 
description  was  to  be  seen, 

Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  walked  all  around  the 
little  room  to  satisfy  herself  that  she  had  missed 
nothing.  Some  newspapers  were  fastened  to 
the  wall  upon  one  side,  and  over  them  hung  a 
few  garments,  which  in  turn  were  carefully 
covered  by  a  thin  shawl,  with  a  view,  no  doubt, 
to  keep  out  the  dust.  That  was  probably  an 
idea  of  the  German  girl's,  thought  Clarice, 
and  rightly,  too,  for  to  Louisa  also  was  due 
the  wtU  scrubbed  boards  of  the  floor,  the  shin- 
ing window  panes,  and  the  general  neatness 
which  pervaded  the  poor  chamber. 

Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  seated  herself  upon 
a  box  and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  her  re- 


320         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

flection  in  a  small  hand  mirror  which  hung 
over  the  dressing  table. 

"You  haven't  the  features  of  a  fool,"  she 
remarked  to  herself,  "but  youVe  added  two 
new  wrinkles  by  this  tom-foolery  to-day,  and 
you  ought  to  be  satisfied  by  this  time  that 
you're  not  fit  to  take  care  of  yourself!  But  I 
suppose  it's  satisfying  to  know  you're  doing 
missionary  work.  Missionary  work,  indeed, 
for  a  girl  who  hasn't  as  much  sense  for  staying 
in  this  place  as  you  have  for  coming !  By  the 
time  you  get  home  you'll  have  two  more 
wrinkles,  and  it'll  take  a  month  to  get  back 
your  good  looks  again!  Well,  you  always 
were  foolish!" 

So  saying  she  turned  away  from  the  mirror 
and  looked  longingly  at  the  bed.  Just  then 
her  eyes  became  fastened,  wide  and  terrified, 
upon  the  head  of  a  small  gray  animal  protrud- 
ing from  the  corner  of  the  floor  behind  the  bed. 
She  watched  it,  spell-bound  by  fear,  as  it  drew 
its  fat  body  through  a  hole  in  the  floor  and  ran 
across  the  room.  Suddenly  with  a  terrible 
shriek  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed.     The 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         321 

pack-rat  ran  back  to  its  hole  and  made  its  exit 
without  loss  of  time,  but  Clarice  sobbed  aloud 
in  hysterical  fear.  Suddenly  the  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  a  weather-browned,  dark- 
haired  girl  knelt  beside  the  bed  and  took  the 
frightened  woman  in  her  arms. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

CLARICE,  dear,"  said  Hope,  "what  is 
the  matter?" 
"  Oh,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer, 
'^  did  you  see  it — did  you  see  it?    A  terrible 
thing  1    A  terrible  thing! " 

"But  what?"  asked  the  girl  wonderingly, 
"  what  could  have  frightened  you  so,  here?  " 

Clarice,  still  hysterical,  only  sobbed  and  was 
quite  incoherent  in  her  explanation.  Hope 
looked  stern,  as  though  facing  an  unpleasant 
problem  which  baffled  her  for  the  time. 
Louisa  had  entered  the  room  and  stood  quietly 
to  one  side,  looking  in  much  surprise  from  one 
to  the  other.  For  a  moment  Mrs.  Van  Rensse- 
laer's sobs  ceased. 

The  (ierman  girl  touched  Hope  gently 
upon  the  shoulder. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         323 

"  I  tink  it  vas  King  Solomon,"  she  said. 

"  Why,  that  was  just  it,"  said  Hope.  "  You 
must  have  seen  King  Solomon,  Clarice.  It 
was  only  King  Solomon;  don't  be  afraid.  I 
thought  we  had  the  hole  well  plugged  up,  but 
he  must  have  made  another  one." 

"You  forget,"  interrupted  Louisa,  laugh- 
ing softly. 

"Oh,  that's  sol"  exclaimed  Hope.  "We 
took  the  soap  out  and  used  it  this  morning  be- 
cause we  didn't  have  any  other." 

"And  who's  King  Solomon,  and  what's  that 
to  do  with  soap?"  demanded  Clarice,  raising 
herself  upon  her  elbow  to  the  edge  of  the  bed 
with  a  faint  show  of  interest. 

"  King  Solomon,"  explained  Hope  soberly, 
"  is  a  friend  who  comes  to  visit  us  occasionally, 
and  generally  packs  off  what  happens  to  be  in 
sight.  We  named  him  King  Solomon — not 
because  of  his  solemn  demeanor,  but  for  reason 
of  his  taking  ways,  and  propensity  toward 
feminine  apparel." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Hope?  I  do 
believe  this  terrible  place  has  gone  to  your 


324         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

headl     What  makes  all  the  noise  in  that  other 
room?" 

Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  seemed  extremely- 
nervous. 

"  That's  the  men  coming  in  to  their  supper," 
replied  Hope.  "  I  think  you  must  have  been 
nervous  before  you  saw  the  rat.  I'm  sorry  I 
wasn't  here  when  you  came,  Clarice!" 

"And  so  that  horrible  thing  I  saw  was  a 
rat!" 

"Yes,  just  a  common  everyday  wood-rat, 
for  obvious  reasons  sometimes  called  a  pack- 
rat.  But  how  did  you  happen  to  come  up 
here,  Clarice?" 

"  If  I  had  known  how  far  it  was,  and  what  a 
dreadful  place  I  should  find,  I  am  afraid  my 
great  desire  to  see  you  couldn't  have  induced 
me  to  attempt  it.  How  can  you  stay  here?  I 
wish  you'd  go  home,  Hope ! " 

" Is  that  what  you  came  to  tell  me?"  asked 
the  girl  quietly.  "  If  so,  you  might  just  as  weU 
get  on  your  horse  and  go  back.  I  wrote  you 
not  to  come.  You  might  have  taken  my  advice 
— ^it  would  have  been  a  heap  better.     You're 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  325 

not  cut  out  for  this  sort  of  place.  I  don't 
know  what  in  the  world  I'm  going  to  do  with 
you  to-night!  I'll  send  you  back  to-morrow, 
that's  one  thing  sure.  One  of  us  will  have  to 
sleep  on  the  floor,  or  else  we'll  be  obliged  to 
sleep  three  in  a  bed." 

"  Oh,  I'll  make  me  a  bed  on  the  floor,"  of- 
fered Louisa  quickly. 

"You  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind — ^the 
idea! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer,  aghast. 
"  Supposing  that  thing — that  rat  should 
come!" 

"  We'll  put  the  soap  back  in  the  hole  again," 
replied  Hope.  "And  King  Solomon  will 
have  to  keep  out.  Before  Louisa  came  I  used 
to  let  him  come  in  just  for  company's  sake,  but 
the  poor  fellow  is  a  hopeless  case.  Clarice,  I 
wish  you  hadn't  come ! " 

"  I  wish  so,  too,  if  that  will  help  you  any," 
replied  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer,  lifting  her 
pretty  face  dejectedly  from  her  hands  and 
looking  about  the  room  in  a  woe-begone  man- 
ner. "I'm  awfully  tired,  Hope,  and  hungry, 
but  I  couldn't  eat  here  if  I  starved  to  death! 


826        eOPE    HATHAWAYi 

Is  that  room  in  there  always  so  grimy  and 
dirty?  and  what  makes  that  terrible  odor  about 
the  place?" 

"  I  think  you'd  better  go  back  to  the  ranch 
to-night,"  suggested  Hope. 

Clarice  moaned  in  deep  discouragement: 
"Oh,  if  you  knew  how  tired  I  am!  But  I 
can't  stand  it  here — I  can't  do  it!  Let  me  get 
out  in  the  fresh  air,  away  from  the  odor  of 
those  pigs  and  chickens  and  rats,  and  sit  down 
on  the  side  of  a  mountain — anywhere,  so  that 
I  can  breathe  again!"  After  a  moment's 
pause  she  suddenly  exclaimed:  "Hope, 
there's  something  biting  me!  What  in  the 
world  is  it  ?   I  tell  you  there's  an  insect  on  me ! " 

"Fleas,"  said  Hope  briefly.  "The  place 
is  full  of  them.  They  don't  bite  me,  and  they 
don't  bother  Louisa  much  either.  Poor 
Clarice,  what  trouble  you  have  got  yourself 
into!  I  can't  send  you  back  to-night,  that's 
one  sure  thing,  you're  too  tired."  She  pon- 
dered a  moment,  deeply  perplexed,  then  all  at 
once  a  solution  came  to  her.  Her  eyes  bright- 
ened and  she  laughed. 


HOPE  HATHAWAY  327 

"I  have  it!"  she  cried.  "I'll  send  one  of 
the  boys  after  Mr.  Livingston's  buggy  and 
drive  you  over  to  Sydney's.  They've  got  an 
extra  tent  and  a  stack  of  blankets.  WiUiam 
will  get  you  a  fine  supper,  and  you  can  be  as 
snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug." 

"Hope,  you're  the  dearest  girl  that  ever 
lived  1"  cried  Clarice.  "I  just  dote  on  camp- 
ing out  in  a  nice  clean  tent! "  But  Hope  had 
hurried  away  to  find  the  twins  before  the  sen- 
tence was  finished.  When  she  returned,  a  few 
minutes  later,  Clarice  exclaimed: 

"  But  you  don't  intend  to  send  me  over  there 
alone  J  do  you?  You  girls  will  go  and  stay 
with  me?  Come,  you  must  I  I'll  not  think  of 
going  alone.  We'll  have  a  regular  camping- 
out  party  and  I'll  chaperon  you." 

"Old  Father  Jim  and  Sydney  are  chape- 
rons enough,"  said  the  girl.  "But  we'll  go 
along,  since  you  happen  to  be  our  guest." 

This  decided  upon,  she  made  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer  lie  down  upon  the  bed,  bathed  her 
pretty,  tired  face  with  cool  water,  and  com- 


328         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

manded  her  to  rest  until  the  twins  returned 
with  the  conveyance. 

Louisa  clapped  her  hands  in  joy  at  the 
happy  prospect  of  camping  in  a  tent.  She 
declared  in  her  pretty  broken  English  that  it 
had  been  her  one  great  desire  ever  since  she 
had  been  in  the  country.  Then  she  became 
sober  again.  Had  not  her  Fritz  spent  months 
at  a  time  in  one  of  those  small,  white-walled 
tents? 

Hope  viewed  the  project  with  complete  in- 
difference. It  mattered  little  to  her  where 
she  spent  the  night,  so  that  she  got  her  allotted 
hours  of  good,  sound  sleep.  At  first  she  was 
greatly  perplexed  as  to  how  she  was  going  to 
make  Clarice  comfortable,  but  now  that  the 
matter  had  adjusted  itself  so  agreeably  she  be- 
came at  once  in  the  lightest  of  spirits,  the  ef- 
fects of  which  were  quickly  felt  by  both  Mrs. 
Van  Rensselaer  and  httle  Louisa. 

By  the  time  the  roll  of  wheels  was  heard, 
announcing  the  arrival  of  Edward  Living- 
ston's conveyance,  Clarice  was  fairly  rested, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         329 

and  in  a  much  more  amiable  mood  than  pre- 
viously. 

"  The  only  thing  that's  the  matter  with  me 
now  is  that  I'm  hungry,"  she  said. 

"We'll  soon  fix  that,  too,"  replied  Hope 
brightly.  "  The  boys  are  back  with  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston's team  and  it  won't  take  us  long  to 
drive  over  to  camp.  Get  on  your  things, 
Clarice."  She  threw  her  own  jacket  over  her 
arm  and,  picking  up  her  hat,  hurriedly  left 
the  room.  "I'll  be  back  in  a  moment  for 
you,"  she  said  from  the  door.  "Keep  her 
company,  Louisa,  and  don't  let  King  Solomon 
in!" 

At  the  entrance  of  the  house  she  met  the 
soft-voiced  twin  just  coming  in  search  of  her. 

"He's  out  there  hisself  with  his  outfit,"  he 
said  disgustedly.  "Thought  it  wasn't  safe 
fer  me  to  drive  his  blame  horses,  I  reckon! " 

She  looked  out  and  saw  Livingston  stand- 
ing beside  his  team  in  the  road.  He  was  wait- 
ing for  her.  When  she  approached,  his  fine 
eyes  brightened,  but  hers  were  gloomy — ^indif- 
ferent. 


330         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  Come,"  he  said,  laughing,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  her.  "You  did  not  think  I  would 
miss  such  an  opportunity  to  get  to  see  you !  I 
haven't  pleased  you,  but  this  time  I  thought  to 
please  myself." 

"  I  was  in  such  a  predicament,"  she  cried, 
ignoring  his  hand,  but  forgetting  her  momen- 
tary displeasure.  "A  guest  from  the  ranch, 
and  no  place  to  put  her.  Then  I  thought  of 
Sydney's,  and  that  new  tent,  so  we're  all  going 
over  there.  I  sent  for  your  buggy,  because 
Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  has  ridden  a  long  ways, 
is  all  tired  out — ^but  I  didn't  mean  to  put  you 
to  so  much  trouble." 

"  Is  it  a  trouble  to  see  you? "  he  asked.  "  If 
it  is,  I  want  a  great  deal  of  just  that  kind  of 
trouble." 

"I'll  go  in  and  get  her,"  she  said  quickly. 
"  If  you  will  drive  her  over  there,  Louisa  and  I 
can  go  horseback." 

He  assented  in  few  words,  happy  to  do  her 
bidding. 

She  started  toward  the  house,  then  turned 
back  absent-mindedly,  as  though  she  had  for- 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         331 

gotten  something  that  she  was  striving  to  re- 
call. Finally  she  gave  a  little  short  laugh, 
and  held  out  her  hand.  "  You  are  very  kind," 
she  said,  looking  at  him  squarely. 

He  did  not  reply,  but  held  the  proffered 
hand,  drinking  in  the  language  of  her  eyes. 
She  withdrew  it  slowly,  as  if  loath  to  take  it 
from  his  warm  clasp,  then  flashing  him  one  of 
her  brilliant  smiles  turned  once  more  and  went 
quickly  back  to  the  house. 

"You  will  ride  over  with  Mr.  Livingston, 
Clarice,"  she  announced.  "  He  wouldn't  trust 
the  twins  with  his  team." 

"And  who's  Mr,  Livingston,  Hope,"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer,  adjusting  her 
veil  carefully  before  the  small  mirror.  "I 
didn't  suppose  you  had  a  Mr,  anybody  up  here 
in  this  terrible  country!     Why  the  prefix?" 

"  He's  a  white  man,"  replied  the  girl,  pulHng 
down  her  hat  to  hide  the  flush  that  crept  into 
her  face.  "An  Englishman,  Edward  Liv- 
ingston." 

"An  Englishman,"  mused  Clarice,  pulHng 
on  her  gloves.     "  But  what  makes  you  Mister 


332         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

him,  Hope?  Livingston — wonder  if  he's  any 
relation  to  Lord  Livingston?  Edward  Liv- 
ingston, did  you  say? " 

"Oh,  such  a  nice  man!"  exclaimed  Louisa, 
clasping  her  hands  in  rapture.  "He  is  my 
goot,  kind  friend." 

"And  Hope's  too,  isn't  he?"  laughed  Mrs. 
Van  Rensselaer,  at  which  remark  Hope  ad- 
vised her  to  hurry  up. 

"  But  my  dear,  I  am  hurrying  just  as  fast 
as  I  can,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  assure  you  I  am 
as  anxious  to  get  away  from  here  as  you  are 
to  have  me.  I  don't  see  how  you've  ever  stood 
it,  Hope !  The  attraction  must  be  very  strong. 
Come,  own  up,  is  it  this  Mister  Livingston? 
Why,  I  believe  you  are  blushing.  You're  so 
black,  though,  I  can't  be  certain.  But  it's  a 
good  name — Livingston.  Come  on;  I'm 
ready  to  see  this  Mister  Edward  Livingston! " 

The  three  passed  out  of  the  room  and 
through  the  large  living  room  beyond,  on  out 
of  doors.  The  men  had  eaten  their  supper 
and  gone  out  to  the  stables,  where  they  con- 
gregated iji  numerous  groups — quiet  groups, 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  333 

that  any  other  time  would  have  seemed  suspi- 
cious to  Hope. 

Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  was  led  safely  past 
the  pigs  and  dogs  without  accident,  but  at  the 
corner  of  the  house  she  drew  back,  filled  with 
surprise,  and  forgetful  of  all  danger. 

"Hope,  I  do  believe  that  is  Lord  Living- 
ston," she  whispered.  "  I  knew  he  was  out  in 
this  country  somewhere.  Yes,  I'm  sure  it  is 
he.  His  wife  lives  in  New  York  now,"  she 
rattled  on;  "but  I  don't  know  her  except  by 
sight.  She  goes  in  kind  of  a  swift  set,  anyway, 
but  he  belongs  to  one  of  the  best  families  in 
England.  Isn't  it  surprising  to  run  across  him 
like  this?  I'll  go  up  to  him  and  say — why,  how 
do  you  do.  Lord " 

"Come  on,"  said  Hope,  interrupting  and 
taking  her  by  the  arm.  "Lord  or  no  lord, 
you'll  never  get  any  supper  if  you  don't  hurry 
up ! "  Her  face  had  gone  from  red  to  white. 
She  took  Clarice  by  the  arm  and  led  her  up  to 
the  buggy.  "This  is  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer, 
Mr.  Livingston,"  she  said  quickly,  before 
that  lady  could  speak,  then  turned  abruptly 


334         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

about  and  went  to  the  stable  for  the  saddle- 
horses. 

Livingston  helped  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer 
into  the  buggy,  while  Louisa  ran  after  Hope, 
quickly  overtaking  her. 

"  She  says  he  hass  a  vif  e.  I  don't  belief 
her!"  she  exclaimed  indignantly,  linking  her 
arm  through  Hope's.  "Don't  you  belief  her 
eider!" 

"  I  must  believe  it,  little  Louisa,  because  it 
is  true ! "  said  Hope.  "  But  if  it  were  not  true, 
if  it  were  not  true,  I  think  I  should  be  mad 
with  happiness  at  this  moment ! " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IN  a  short  time  the  horses  were  saddled  and 
the  two  girls  dashed  past  the  stable  build- 
ings and  the  rough  assortment  of  men  who 
stood  silently  about,  past  their  watchful,  alert 
eyes,  on  after  the  buggy,  which  had  now  be- 
come a  mere  speck  high  up  on  the  mountain 
road.  As  they  raced  by  the  house  and  tepees 
the  boy,  Ned,  cautiously  raised  his  small  body 
from  behind  a  pile  of  logs  which  edged  the 
road  and  beckoned  to  them,  frantically. 
Hope's  quick  eye  saw  him,  but  only  as  the 
flash  of  a  moving  picture  across  her  mind, 
leaving  no  impression  and  instantly  forgotten. 
But  later,  when  she  had  entered  the  cook-tent 
at  Sydney's  camp  and  seated  herself  among 
the  small  company,  the  memory  of  the  passing 
vision  came  back,  annoying,  troubling  her. 
She  scented  danger  more  than  she  felt  it.  A 
sense  of  uneasiness  possessed  her.     She  con- 

335 


886         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

demned  herself  roundly  for  the  wild  thoughts 
that  had  carried  her  away  from  herself, 
and  would  have  given  much  at  that  mo- 
ment to  have  known  what  the  breed  boy  had 
wanted  to  commune  to  her. 

Clarice  was  chatting  volubly  to  Livingston. 
Sydney  leaned  upon  the  table,  listening  atten- 
tively. Outside,  old  Jim  McCullen  was  stak- 
ing out  the  saddle-horses,  while  about  the  stove 
and  mess-box  William,  the  cook,  flitted  in 
great  importance.  Sydney  jumped  up  from 
the  table  when  the  two  girls  entered  and 
arranged  some  extra  seats  for  them,  then  took 
one  himself  beside  Louisa,  who  flushed  prettily 
at  his  attentions. 

"We  beat  you  by  fifteen  minutes!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer,  breaking  off 
from  her  conversation  abruptly.  "But  we 
just  came  along  spinning.  And  I  must  tell 
you  that  I'm  perfectly  happy  now,  and  don't 
regret  coming  one  bit!  Just  think,  isn't  this 
luck — Mr.  Livingston  has  promised  to  take 
me  back  to  the  ranch  to-morrow,  or  whenever  I 
decide  to  return!    And  you  should  see  what  a 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         337 

splendid  dinner  we  are  going  to  have!  After 
all,  I'm  coming  out  the  best  in  the  deal — in 
spite  of  Jim's  '  didn't  I  tell  you,'  and  Hope's 
*  what  made  you  come.'  This  is  a  regular  taste 
of  the  real  West — wild  and  rugged!  You 
don't  get  it  at  the  ranch — luxurious  quarters, 
Chinese  servants  everywhere,  even  the  people 
especially  imported.  You  might  as  well  be  in 
New  York  for  everything  except  the  climate. 
This  is  great — ^this  little  gulch  here  and  these 
fresh,  sweet  tents;  but  horrors,  that  place 
back  there !  Isn't  there  any  way  to  go  around 
it  when  we  go  back  to  the  ranch,  Mr.  Living- 
ston? I  don't  want  even  to  catch  sight  of  it.  I 
never  saw  such  a  lot  of  looking  men  in  all  my 
life!" 

They  all  laughed  at  the  look  of  abject 
horror  which  she  put  upon  her  face — all  with 
the  exception  of  Hope,  who  sat  silently  in  the 
shadow  of  Louisa  and  Sydney. 

"  We've  been  to  supper,"  said  Sydney,  turn- 
ing around  to  his  cousin,  "  so  this  is  an  extra 
one  for  the  special  benefit  of  our  guests. 
You'd  better  appreciate  it,  for  it's  going  to  be 


338         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

a  jim-dandy  one.  Livingston's  been  to  sup- 
per, too,  so  this  is  just  for  the  ladies." 

"You're  a  good  boy,"  murmured  the  girl, 
taking  off  her  hat  and  pushing  back  the  mass 
of  dark  hair  from  her  forehead.  "  We'll  soon 
show  you  our  appreciation." 

"I  guess  we'd  better  light  up,  it's  getting 
dark  a  little  earlier  nowadays,"  he  said,  leav- 
ing Louisa's  side  to  light  the  lanterns,  which 
soon  flooded  the  tent  with  soft  radiance. 

"I  like  the  twilight,"  said  Clarice  to  Liv- 
ingston. "But  then  I  like  lots  of  light,  too. 
Some  people  can  talk  best  in  the  dark,  but  I 
have  to  see  to  talk." 

"It's  only  eight  o'clock,"  continued  Syd- 
ney, from  where  he  had  left  off.  "  Last  month 
it  was  daylight  at  ten.  It  beats  all  how  time 
flies,  anyway!"  He  hung  an  extra  lantern, 
lighted  for  the  momentous  occasion,  right 
where  the  rays  fell  full  upon  Hope's  face. 
From  the  far  end  of  the  tent  Livingston 
watched  her.  He  sought  her  eyes  as  usual. 
They  were  everywhere,  anywhere,  but  did  not 
meet  his.    Lately  a  new  star  had  risen  for  him 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         339 

— a  star  of  hope.  O'Hara  had  told  him,  quite 
unsoHcited,  that  there  was  no  attachment  be- 
tween Hope  and  her  cousin,  much  less  an 
engagement,  and  suddenly  a  new  world  had 
opened  for  him. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  are  lighting  the  lan- 
terns now.  It  isn't  dark  at  all,"  said  the  girl, 
rising  suddenly  from  her  seat.  "From  the 
top  of  the  ridge  out  there  you  can  see  the  sun- 
set, I  know." 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  sunset  as  beautiful  as 
the  sunrise?"  asked  Livingston. 

She  stopped  and  pondered  an  instant,  then 
glanced  at  him  quickly,  and  as  quickly  away. 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  she  replied.  "  A  sunrise 
is  a  baptism.  It  is  like  being  born  into  a  new 
world.  There  is  nothing  so  beautiful,  so 
grand,  so  promising,  as  the  vision  of  a  new 
day's  sun.  And  to  stand  in  the  cool  morning 
air  with  the  dew  beneath  your  feet  and  feel  all 
the  promise  of  that  vast,  golden  glory — to  feel 

it "     She   stopped  suddenly,   hfting   her 

eyes  to  his  for  one  brief  instant.  "  There  is  no 
moment  in  life  when  one  is  so  near  to  God." 


340         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"  Admitting  the  sublimity  and  grandeur  of 
the  time,"  said  Clarice.  "  Yet  who  ever  heard 
of  an  enamored  swain  offering  his  heart  at  the 
feet  of  his  fair  lady  at  such  an  unearthly  hour? 
It's  preposterous! " 

"  In  such  a  case  he'd  probably  be  sitting  up 
too  late  the  night  before,"  said  Carter.  "  But 
it's  a  pretty  idea,  just  the  same,"  he  declared, 
looking  at  Louisa. 

"I  think  a  sunset  is  prettier,"  insisted 
Clarice.  "  I've  never  been  able  to  rub  the  sleep 
out  of  my  eyes  to  appreciate  the  sunrise  as 
Hope  describes  it.  But  I  tliink  she  is  an  ex- 
ception." 

"Would  there  were  more  then,"  said  Liv- 
ingston fervently. 

His  earnestness  seemed  to  amuse  Clarice, 
for  she  turned  to  him  and  laughed.  Hope 
swung  about  quickly,  stung  for  the  instant. 

"  It  is  sacred,"  she  cried  softly,  then  opening 
the  tent-flap  with  a  quick  movement  she 
stepped  out  into  the  evening. 

Jim  McCullen  was  putting  up  a  new  tent 
down  near  the  edge  of  the  stream  for  the  ac- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         341 

commodation  of  the  ladies.  The  girl  went  over 
to  where  he  was  at  work  and  assisted  him  by 
steadying  one  pole  while  he  fastened  the  can- 
vas in  position. 

"  How's  the  ranch,  Jim? "  she  asked.  "  Mrs. 
Van  Rensselaer  hasn't  had  time  to  tell  me 
yet" 

"  Well,  it's  about  the  same  as  ever,"  replied 
McCuUen  slowly.  "I  reckon  your  father's 
gettin'  pretty  lonesome  without  you.  Feels 
like  a  lost  horse  by  now.  That  there  little 
Rosebush — Rosehill,  he  and  them  Cresmonds 
have  gone  back  East  to  get  ready  f  er  the  great 
weddin'  they're  talkin'  about.  Them  folks 
seem  to  think  it's  a  mighty  fine  thing  to  catch 
a  lord  er  an  earl.  But  it  always  seemed  to  me 
that  the  Almighty  left  out  a  whole  pile  in  order 
to  give  some  o'  them  fellers  a  title.  Forgot 
Rosehill's  brains  entirely,  an'  he  ain't  no 
bigger'n  a  minute,  neither." 

"I  guess  you're  right,  about  him,"  said 
Hope,  kneeling  beside  McCuUen  as  he  fash- 
ioned a  stake  pin  more  to  his  hking.  "  I  hope 
that  outfit  won't  come  out  here  another  year; 


342         HOPE    HATHAWAY] 

I  don't  like  them  very  well.  It's  nice  and 
sweet  out  here  on  the  grass,  isn't  it?  I  don't 
mind  staying  here  at  all  to-night.  I  don't  see 
what  makes  me  feel  so  sleepy  and  drowsy 
though,  but  I  do — sort  of  tired,  as  though  I 
wanted  to  get  away  and  go  to  bed.  I  haven't 
ridden  far  to-day  either — only  a  few  miles 
after  school.  Jim,  I  wish  I  were  back  to- 
night at  the  ranch — I  wish  I  could  go  and  say 
good-night  to  my  father,  and  go  away  to  my 
own  room." 

McCuUen  looked  up  from  the  peg  he  was 
driving,  and  remarked:  "I'll  warrent  you'll 
have  as  good  a  night's  sleep  out  here  in  this 
tent  as  you  would  at  home  on  the  ranch. 
Plenty  o'  fresh  air  an'  no  misquitoes  to  bother. 
But  I  reckon  your  father'd  like  to  see  you  just 
the  same  to-night." 

"  But  he  doesn't  want  me  to  go  home  until 
I've  finished  this  school  up  here.  I'm  earning 
fifty  dollars  a  month.    How  much  are  you?" 

"A  hundred,"  replied  McCuUen.  "But, 
look  a-here,  your  father  said  that,  but  he'd  be 
mighty  glad  to  have  you  drop  in  on  him  one  o' 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         343 

these  times.  He's  the  sorriest  father  you  ever 
seen  I" 

"  But  I  shall  stay,  Jim,  just  as  long  as  there 
is  school  here,"  said  Hope  decidedly.  "  So  don't 
you  try  to  get  me  to  go  home.  Everyone  else 
is.  Sydney  all  the  time,  then  Larry  O'Hara. 
I'm  glad  he's  gone  over  to  camp  with  the 
soldiers.  They're  farther  away  than  I 
thought.  Louisa  and  I  rode  over  in  that  direc- 
tion after  school,  but  only  got  to  the  top  of  the 
tall  butte  over  there.  We  could  see  them  where 
they  were  camped  on  Fox  Creek,  but  it  was  too 
far  to  go,  so  we  went  back  to  Harris'.  Larry 
was  all  the  time  urging  me  to  go  home  while 
he  was  here — and  now  Clarice  has  come.  But 
I  won't  go,  Jim,  until  the  school  ends." 

"Well,  you  just  make  the  best  of  it,"  re- 
plied McCuUen.  "I  like  your  grit.  I'm 
a-goin'  to  stay  right  here  so's  to  be  near  you 
whatever  happens." 

"Jim,"  said  the  girl  suddenly,  "were  you 
ever  nervous?" 

"I  reckon  I've  been,  a  few  times,"  replied 
McCullen.     "  Why,  you  ain't  nervous,  be  you. 


344         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

Hopie?  There  ain't  nothin'  goin'  to  bother 
you  out  here  to-night.  Mebby  you  ain't  f  eelin' 
weU." 

She  smiled  at  his  consternation.  "No,  I 
don't  think  I'm  nervous,  Jim;  just  a  little 
restless,  that's  all." 

"I  expect  that  woman's  comin'  has  sort  o' 
upset  you.  I  didn't  want  to  bring  her,  but  she 
managed  to  overrule  all  o'  my  objections." 

He  finished  driving  the  last  peg,  which 
made  the  tent  secure  against  the  strongest 
wind,  then  straightened  himself  up  with  his 
hands  upon  the  small  of  his  back  as  though  the 
movement  was  a  difficult  one. 

"Well,  I  reckon  I'll  bring  in  the  beddin', 
an'  you  can  fix  it  up  to  suit  yourself,"  he  said, 
looking  down  at  the  girl,  who  had  seated  her- 
self on  the  grass  before  the  tent. 

"Listen,"  she  whispered,  holding  up  a 
warning  hand,  "  I  hear  horsebackers." 

"  Sure  enough,"  he  replied  after  a  moment's 
silence.  "I  reckon  it's  them  breed  boys  o' 
yourn.     Hungriest  outfit  I  ever  seen!" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  rising  suddenly  to  her  feet 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         345 

and  peering  into  the  gathering  dusk,  "that's 
who  it  is.    Go  get  the  blankets,  Jim." 

"  Where're  you  goin' ! '  asked  McCullen,  as 
she  moved  quickly  away  down  the  bank  of 
the  creek  toward  the  dark  brush  of  the 
bottom. 

"To  tell  them  school's  out,"  she  replied 
with  a  short  laugh,  then  disappeared  from  his 
sight. 

"I  reckon  she's  afraid  them  boys'll  annoy 
that  Van  Rensselaer  woman.  You'd  think 
she'd  never  seen  an  Injun  before,  from  the 
fuss  she  made  back  there  at  Harris',"  solilo- 
quized McCullen  as  he  brought  a  great  armful 
of  blankets  and  deposited  them  inside  the  new 
tent. 

But  Hope  was  not  thinking  of  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer  as  she  stood  in  the  narrow  brush 
trail  holding  the  bridle  of  an  impatient  Indian 
pinto,  while  the  soft-voiced  twin  looked  at  her 
through  the  semi-darkness. 

"There's  a  bright  moon  to-night  till  three 
in  the  mornin',  then  it's  as  dark  as  pitch,"  he 
was  saying. 


346         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"Who  figured  out  all  that?"  demanded  the 
girl. 

The  hreed  boy  moved  uneasily  in  his  saddle. 
"  I  reckon  Shorty  Smith  er  some  o'  'em  did," 
he  replied. 

"And  they're  going  to  meet  in  the  sheep- 
shed  at  the  foot  of  the  big  hill,"  she  said  de- 
Uberately. 

"Yes,"  replied  Dan  reluctantly,  "the  one 
just  inside  the  pasture  fence  over  there  on  this 
side.    It's  the  nearest  place  to  meet." 

"How  many  men?"  demanded  Hope. 

"  'Bout  a  dozen,  I  reckon,"  replied  the  twin. 
"Mebby  not  so  many."  He  leaned  forward 
until  his  face  was  close  beside  the  girl's. 
"  Say,"  he  whispered  nervously,  "  if  they  ever 
found  out  I  put  you  onto  this,  they'd  finish  me 
mighty  quick." 

"Are  they  aware  you  know  about  it?"  she 
asked  quickly.     "Do  they  know?" 

"  You  can't  never  tell,"  replied  the  boy  de- 
liberately, sweetly. 

The  bushes  rattled  and  another  horse  pushed 
its  way  alongside  the  pinto. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         347 

"  If  we  only  had  that  Gatlin'  gun  now  we'd 
be  all  right,"  exclaimed  the  other  twin  enthusi- 
astically, as  his  horse  nosed  its  way  in  beside 
them.  "But  if  we  get  behind  the  big  rock 
we'll  scare  'em  to  death,  so's  they  won't  have 
the  nerve  to  do  nothin' ! " 

"  But  what  are  they  going  to  do? "  demanded 
Hope  impatiently.  "You  seem  to  know 
nothing  except  that  they're  going  to  meet 
there  for  some  devilishness." 

"Goin'  to  make  a  raid  on  the  shed,  I 
reckon,"  replied  Dave.  The  soft-voiced  twin 
was  silent. 

"And  you  think  we  can  stand  off  a  dozen 
men?"  she  demanded. 

"  They  can't  do  a  thing  to  us  from  the  big 
rock,  anyway,  an'  we  can  watch  the  fun  an' 
pick  off  everyone  that  leaves  the  shed.  We 
can  do  that  much,"  said  the  soft-voiced  twin 
eagerly. 

"How  you  thirst  for  blood!  They  deserve 
death,  every  one — the  dogs!  But  I  can't  do  it ! 
There  must  be  some  other  way!  He  must  be 
warned,    and   his   men   too,   and   the   thing 


348         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

averted.  Before,  it  just  happened  so — ^this 
time  we  have  a  chance  and  warning." 

"  It  'ud  never  do  to  tell  him,"  exclaimed  the 
soft- voiced  twin  nervously.  "He'd  put  his 
own  head  right  into  the  noose ! " 

"Never!"  she  cried.  "You  don't  know 
what  courage  he  has!" 

The  soft-voiced  twin  continued  to  demur. 
Suddenly  she  held  up  her  hand  to  him  com- 
mandingly.  "  Not  another  word !  I'll  manage 
this  thing  myself!  It's  for  me  to  conmiand, 
and  you  obey  orders.  Remember,  you're  my 
scouts — ^my  hrave  scouts.  Surely  you  want  me 
to  be  proud  of  you ! " 

"  You  bet ! "  exclaimed  Dave. 

"Then  do  as  I  say,"  she  commanded  in  a 
voice  softly  alluring,  coaxing.  "  Go  home, 
find  out  what  you  can,  and  bring  me  word  here 
in  an  hour.  If  you  are  not  back  here  then  I 
will  go  down  there  and  face  them  all,  myself — 
alone/^ 

"  You  wouldn't,"  whispered  the  soft-voiced 
twin  excitedly. 

"  I  would! "  replied  the  girl,  "  Now  go — and 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         349 

remember  I'll  expect  you  back  in  one  hour. 
If  you  fail  me,  I'll  go  down  there  and  face 
those  devils  single-handed!  I  could  wipe  the 
earth  with  forty  such  dogs!" 

The  breed  boys  turned  away  in  silent,  stolid, 
Indian  fashion,  and  the  bare-headed  girl  stood 
in  the  still  gloom  of  the  willow-brush  listening 
to  the  sound  of  their  horses'  quick  hoof -beats 
until  the  last  dull  thud  had  died  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"Chuck-away!"  called  a  voice  from  the 
creek  bank. 

"Coming!"  answered  the  girl,  turning 
about  with  a  start  and  running  back  along  the 
path. 

At  the  bank  she  stopped,  unnerved  with  a 
rush  of  thoughts,  overwhelming — ^terrifying. 
She  knelt  down  in  the  long  grass,  clasped  her 
hands  over  her  heart  as  if  to  tear  it  from  her, 
and  raised  for  an  instant  a  strained,  white  face 
to  the  starlit  canopy  of  heaven. 

"  The  brave  can  die  but  once,"  her  heart 
repeated  wildly.  "  But  I  am  a  coward — I  can- 
not bear  it!  Oh,  God, — if  you  are  the  great, 


850         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

good  God, — spare  him  from  all  harm,  from 
suffering  and  death!  Spare  him  now!  See, 
I  offer  myself  instead — freely,  gladly !  Take 
me,  but  spare  him! " 

A  dimly  outlined  face  from  the  bank  above 
looked  down  at  her,  followed  by  a  soft,  mellow 
laugh. 

"  The  bank  is  so  steep,"  said  Livingston 
softly.  "  Here,  give  me  your  hand  and  I  will 
pull  you  up." 

She  took  a  quick  step  upward,  then  stopped 
just  below  him  and  looked  at  him  intently. 

"  God  in  heaven,"  she  said  wildly  to  her- 
self, "I  swear  they  shall  not  harm  a  hair  of 
your  head!  I'll  tear  the  heart  out  of  every 
man  of  them  that  comes  near  you!  I'll  kill 
them  all,  the  hounds,  the  sneaks,  the  low 
vermin ! " 

She  looked  at  him  an  instant  so,  then 
laughed — an  odd,  mirthless,  reverberant  laugh, 
that  echoed  on  the  hills  above. 

"  Come,  let  me  help  you,"  he  urged  gently, 
reaching  down  his  hand  to  her.  She  laughed 
again,  this  time  softly,  more  naturally. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         351 

My  lord"  she  said  with  grave  emphasis, 
"you  honor  me!  I  am  overwhelmed  for  the 
instant.    Forgive  my  rudeness!" 

^'  You  have  heard,"  he  exclaimed  regretfully. 
"Your  friend  has  told  you — I  am  so  sorry! 
But  then  it  really  doesn't  make  any  difference 
— only  I  thought  you  might  like  me  better  if 
you  didn't  know  it." 

"Oh,  my  lord,"  she  laughed  mockingly. 
"  I  must  needs  adore  you  now! " 

"  Stop  your  fooling,"  he  exclaimed  impa- 
tiently. "  And  give  me  your  hand  and  I'll  pull 
you  up  here." 

With  a  sudden  movement  he  stepped  down 
toward  her,  grasping  her  hand  firmly,  draw- 
ing her  up  beside  him  on  the  bank.  She  looked 
at  him  in  some  surprise. 

"  I  always  had  an  idea,"  she  said,  "  that  you 
were  a  very  mild-mannered  young  man." 

"But  you've  given  me  a  title  that  I  didn't 
want — you've  put  me  out  of  humor,  and  now 
you  must  take  the  consequences,"  he  said. 

"I  tried  to  make  you  angry.  Why  aren't 
you?"  said  Hope  seriously. 


352         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"Angry  with  you!"  he  exclaimed  softly. 
"  With  you,  my  girl !  Look  at  me  closely — in 
my  eyes  and  see  the  reason!"  He  stood  be- 
side her.  His  hand  grasped  hers,  his  power- 
ful magnetism  drew  her  until  her  cheeks 
flamed,  but  not  the  flicker  of  downcast  eye- 
lids betrayed  more  than  the  faintest,  friend- 
liest indifi^erence. 

"  Come  on,"  she  said,  turning  abruptly  to- 
ward the  tent,  "  I'm  starved  for  my  supper  I " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

YOU  bad  girl,"  cried  Clarice  Van 
Rensselaer  from  the  table,  "why  did 
you  run  away?  See  this  nice  dinner 
spoiling  for  you!  I've  regained  my  good 
nature,  which  is  lucky  for  you,  but  you'll  have 
to  give  an  account  of  yourself.  Actually,  I 
had  to  send  Mr.  Livingston  to  look  you  up!" 
She  glanced  with  a  well-bred  look  of  quizzical 
amusement  from  Hope's  brilliant,  flushed 
face  to  the  man  who  accompanied  her.  "  Well, 
you  see  that  I  for  one  didn't  wait  for  you," 
she  concluded ;  "  couldn't !  I  don't  think  I  ever 
was  so  hungry  before  in  my  whole  life.  Every- 
thing tastes  perfectly  delicious ! " 

"William  has  outdone  himself  this  time," 
remarked  Sydney,  as  the  girl  drew  up  an 
empty  box  and  seated  herself  at  the  table,  tak- 
ing a  little  food  upon  her  plate  and  making  a 
pretense  of  eating.     Everjrthing  tasted  like 


354         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

wood.  She  could  scarcely  swallow.  It  finally 
occurred  to  her  that  she  must  be  acting  very 
unlike  herself.  She  made  a  violent  effort  to 
appear  natural,  succeeding  fairly  well. 

"You  haven't  given  account  of  yourself, 
yet,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer,  glancing  from 
her  end  of  the  table  to  where  Hope  sat,  still  in 
silence. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  said  the  girl.  "  My  excuse 
would  sound  too  trivial  to  you,  Clarice.  Per- 
haps I  wanted  to  watch  the  first  stars  of 
evening." 

"  Or  follow  a  frog  to  its  nest  in  the  weeds," 
supplemented  Sydney,  "or  catch  grass- 
hoppers that  had  gone  to  roost,  or  listen  to  the 
night-song  of  the  cat  bird  in  the  brush  or — or 
what,  Hopie  ?  Maybe  you  were  ^vriting  poems 
in  your  mind,  or  preparing  new  lessons  for 
school  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  that's  just  it,"  she  replied.  "  I  was 
preparing  new  lessons — for  to-morrow!" 

"How  funny!"  laughed  Mrs.  Van  Rens- 
selaer. "I  had  forgotten  you  were  a  full- 
fledged  school-teacher.    Of  course,  I  suppose 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         355 

you  do  have  to  think  about  your  teaching 
some.  Goodness,  I  wouldn't  like  it  at  all!  It 
must  be  an  awful  task  to  bother  with  a  lot  of 
rough,  dirty  children!  How  many  pupils  have 
you?" 

"  Seventeen  enrolled — ^but  only  seven  or 
eight  who  attend,"  replied  Hope  briefly. 

"Mercy,  I  thought  you  must  have  at  least 
fifty,  from  all  I  saw  back  there! "  gasped  Mrs. 
Van  Rensselaer.  "Well,  I  shouldn't  think  it 
would  be  much  trouble  to  prepare  lessons  for 
that  amount." 

"  That  many,"  corrected  Hope.  "  We  don't 
measure  them  by  the  pound." 

"  No,  we  size  them  up  by  the  cord,"  laughed 
Sydney;  "but  we  don't  handle  'em,  because 
they're  like  that  much  dynamite." 

"  Dangerous  pieces  of  humanity,"  said  Liv- 
ingston, smiling. 

"  Hope  can  handle  them  all  right,"  declared 
Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer.  "  She  can  handle  any- 
one, for  that  matter.  She's  got  more  tact  and 
diplomacy  than  any  politician.  Trust  her  to 
manage  seven  or  eight  children!    Why,  if  she 


356         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

can't  manage  a  person  any  other  way,  she'll 
actually  bully  him.  She  can  make  you  believe 
black  is  white  every  time." 

"  Fraulein  is  so  goot! "  murmured  Louisa,  in 
rapture. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Hope  gratefully. 
"  You  see  Louisa  knows  me  last^  Clarice,  and 
her  remark  should  show  you  that  I  have 
changed  for  the  better." 

"I  always  told  you  there  was  chance  for 
improvements,  didn't  I,  Hopie?"  laughed 
Sydney. 

"  Yes,  you  have  said  something  about  there 
being  room  for  improvement,  but  I  always 
supposed  you  judged  me  to  be  a  hopeless  case. 
I'm  glad  though  you  think  there's  a  chance!  I 
always  did  want  to  improve  I"  As  she  spoke 
she  pushed  back  the  box  upon  which  she  had 
been  sitting,  turning  it  over  to  make  it  lower, 
and  seated  herself  near  the  corner  of  the  tent, 
where  she  was  shaded  from  the  direct  rays  of 
the  lantern's  light. 

More  than  a  half  hour  had  abeady  passed, 
she  thought  nervously.     Then  she  began  to 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         357 

count  the  minutes  before  her  messengers 
should  return.  The  time  seemed  endless  since 
she  had  decided  to  wait  for  more  particulars 
before  informing  Livingston  of  what  was 
about  to  take  place.  The  twins  had  learned  of 
it  only  that  afternoon,  and  they,  though  filled 
with  the  foreboding  of  a  desperate  plot,  could 
tell  nothing  positive  about  the  actual  plans. 
These  she  hoped  they  would  be  able  to  ascer- 
tain. She  believed  that  the  so  ft- voiced  twin 
knew  more  than  he  was  willing  to  divulge  when 
he  advised  her  so  emphatically  against  inform- 
ing Livingston  of  the  plot.  This,  combined 
with  a  certain  anxiety  of  her  own,  which  she 
was  unable  to  define,  filled  her  with  vague  un- 
easiness and  decided  her  instantly  to  do 
nothing  until  the  boys  returned  with  more 
particulars. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  finished 
your  supper,  Hope,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer,  as  the  girl  settled  herself  comfort- 
ably in  the  dark  corner.  "Z  never  was  so 
hungry  before  in  all  my  life! "  She  turned  to 
Jim  McCullen,  who  put  his  head  inside  the 


358         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

tent:  "You  see,  Mr.  McCuUen,  that  good, 
hard,  patient  endeavor  brings  its  own  reward! 
I  wouldn't  miss  this  for  worlds! " 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  it,  ma'am,"  replied 
old  Jim  politely.  "  Reckon  you'll  sleep  pretty 
well  out  there  to-night,  no  misquitoes  er 
nothin'  to  bother  you.  The  tent's  all  ready  f  er 
you  folks  any  time.  Plenty  o'  blankets  an' 
it'll  be  a  warmer  night'n  usual.  Well,  so 
long!" 

"  Why,  he's  going  away ! "  said  Hope  in  sur- 
prise, as  a  horse  loped  down  the  creek  bank  and 
on  through  the  brush  trail.  An  impulse  to  run 
out  and  call  him  back  seized  her.  Sydney's 
slow  reply  caused  a  delay,  the  impulse  to  do  so 
wavered,  and  in  another  moment  it  was  too 
late ;  yet  she  felt  somehow  that  she  had  made  a 
mistake. 

"Yes,"  replied  Carter,  after  listening  to 
Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer's  chatter  for  a  moment, 
"he's  going  over  to  the  round-up.  It's 
camped  about  ten  or  fifteen  miles,  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountains.  It's  as  light  as  day  out 
and  much  pleasanter  riding  in  the  cool  of  even- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         359 

ing.  He'll  be  back  early  in  the  morning.  Had 
some  mail  from  the  ranch  to  take  over  to  the 
boys." 

"  The  poor  fellows  on  the  round-up  all  sum- 
mer! I  bet  they're  glad  to  get  their  mail," 
murmured  Clarice. 

"What  they  get  don't  hurt  them  any,"  re- 
marked Sydney.  "Range  riding  isn't  con- 
ducive to  letter  writing,  and  it  doesn't  take 
long  before  a  cow-puncher  is  about  forgotten 
by  his  home  people,  and  his  mail  consists  of  an 
occasional  newspaper,  sent  by  someone  who 
happens  to  remember  him,  and  the  regular 
home  letter  from  his  old  mother,  who  never 
forgets.  By  the  way,  here's  a  lot  of  mail  for 
O'Hara.  Have  to  ride  over  with  it  unless  he 
turns  up  pretty  soon." 

"Dear  Larry!"  said  Clarice.  "What 
made  him  leave  just  when  I  came  up  here? 
I'd  love  to  see  him!  He's  such  a  jolly  good 
fellow.  You  didn't  send  him  away  on  some 
wild-goose  chase,  did  you,  Hope?" 

The  girl  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand  and 
answered    languidly:      "No,    there    wasn't 


360         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

enough  excitement  here,  so  he  went  over  to  the 
military  reservation.  They  are  out  on  drill 
over  near  here — Colonel  Walsh,  and  a  lot  of 
West  Point  fellows  Larry  knows,  and  so  he 
pulled  stakes,  just  quit  our  company  entirely, 
and  turned  old  Watch  Eye  toward  Fox 
Creek." 

She  drawled  her  words  out  slowly  as  if  to 
fill  in  time.  Livingston,  whose  eyes  constantly 
sought  her  face,  thought  she  must  be  very 
tired,  and  rose  suddenly  to  take  his  leave.  She 
was  upon  her  feet  in  a  flash. 

"  Sit  right  down! "  she  demanded  nervously. 
"  Surely  you  wouldn't  think  of  leaving  us  so 
early;  why,  we'd  all  get  stupid  and  go  to 
bed  immediately,  and  Clarice  wouldn't  enjoy 
herself  at  all!"  She  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  sleeve  entreatingly.  ''Stay!''  she  urged 
softly. 

"  As  you  say,"  he  replied.  "  It  is  a  pleasure 
to  remain,  but  you  must  tell  me  when  I  am  to 
go.     I  thought  perhaps  you  were  tired." 

She  drew  her  hand  away  with  a  sudden 
movement.     He  seated  himself  beside  Mrs. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         361 

Van  Rensselaer,  who  began  immediately  to 
congratulate  him  upon  his  good  sense  in  re- 
maining. 

"  But  it  was  compulsory,"  he  returned.  "  I 
didn't  dare  disobey  orders." 

"  I  should  say  not,"  agreed  Clarice,  laugh- 
ing merrily,  "  we  always  mind  Hope.  Every- 
body does." 

"  She  always  knows  the  right,"  said  little 
Louisa,  looking  lovingly  at  her  friend, 

"  Why,  of  course,"  agreed  Mrs.  Van  Rens- 
selaer, "  that's  taken  for  granted." 

Hope  was  again  in  her  corner,  silent,  intent. 
Livingston  could  only  conclude  that  she  was< 
tired.  The  rest  of  them  took  no  special  notice 
of  her,  nor  did  they  hear  the  distant  splashing 
of  water  which  brought  into  activity  all  the 
blood  in  her  body  and  fired  each  nerve. 
Clarice  was  giving  an  elaborate  account  of  her 
day's  experience,  consequently  no  attention 
was  paid  to  the  girl's  abrupt  departure.  She 
smiled  at  Louisa  as  she  passed  quietly  out  and 
made  some  remark  about  her  horse,  which  gave 
the  impression  that  she  might  have  forgotten 


362         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

something.  At  least  Livingston  and  Louisa 
received  that  impression ;  as  for  the  others  they 
were  busy,  and  besides  Hope  was  Hope,  who 
always  followed  her  own  free  fancy. 

The  girl  fairly  flew  along  the  trail  that 
skirted  the  creek  until  she  grasped  the  bridle 
of  a  small  Indian  pony  that  was  nosing  its  way 
cautiously  toward  her. 

"Oh,  it's  you!"  exclaimed  its  small  rider  in 
a  relieved  tone,  as  he  slipped  to  the  ground  and 
stood  in  the  path  beside  the  girl.  "  I  was 
mighty  scared  it  might  be  somebody  else." 
Hope  raised  the  boy's  face  so  that  the  moon 
shone  full  upon  it. 

"Ned!"  she  exclaimed  under  her  breath. 
"Why  are  you  here?    Where  are  the  boys?" 

"The  old  man's  got  'em  locked  up  in  the 
granary,"  he  announced.  Then  seeing  the  look 
of  alarm  that  flashed  into  her  face,  added  as- 
suringly:  "But  that's  all  right,  I'm  here  I 
They  told  me  to  tell  you  they'd  get  out  some- 
how 'fore  mornin'.  I  cached  their  horses  in 
the  brush  for  'em,  and  they're  diggin'  them- 
selves out  underneath  the  barn.     Here,"  he 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         363 

said,  handing  something  to  her.  "  I  got  your 
rifle  out  o'  your  room  an'  hid  it  under  the  house 
soon's  ever  you  left,  an'  all  these  cartridges.  I 
just  knew  the  old  man  'ud  go  an'  look  fer  it." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  suddenly  gather- 
ing child,  gun,  and  all  into  her  arms.  "  What 
a  little  man  you  are." 

"Yep,"  said  the  boy,  disengaging  himself; 
"  an'  I've  got  a  lot  to  tell  you ! " 

"And  you're  sure  about  this,"  questioned 
Hope,  after  the  boy  had  told  a  story  so  com- 
plete in  detail  as  to  fairly  unnerve  her. 
"You're  perfectly  sure  that  these  men  are 
going  to  meet  at  the  shed — the  big  shed  close 
to  Fritz's  grave,  there  below  the  ledge  of 
rocks?" 

"  Sure's  anything,"  replied  the  boy  con- 
vincingly. "There'll  be  seven  er  eight  from 
our  place,  some  from  Old  Peter's  an'  some 
from  up  the  creek." 

Hope  shivered  as  though  it  had  been  a  win- 
ter's night. 

"What  shall  we  do!  What  shall  we  do!" 
she  repeated  almost  frantically. 


864         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"  Why,  f^ght  'em,  of  course! "  exclaimed  the 
boy.  "Dave  an'  Dan'U  get  out  by  then,  an' 
we'll  all  lay  up  there  behind  them  rocks  an' 
just  pepper  'em!  There's  'bout  a  million  peek- 
holes  in  that  wall  o'  rocks,  an'  they  can't  never 
hit  us.  Pooh,  I  ain't  afraid  o'  twenty  men! 
We'll  make  'em  think  all  the  soldiers  from  the 
post  is  behind  there!" 

"The  soldiers!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  filled 
suddenly  with  a  new  life,  "and  they  shall  he 
there!    They  shall  he  there!'* 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

YOU  must  think  me  rude,"  apologized 
Hope,  entering  the  tent  as  quickly  as 
she  had  left  it,  and  seating  herself 
directly  beside  Livingston.  "I  surely  didn't 
intend  to  be  gone  so  long." 

"So  long!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  Rensse- 
laer. "Why,  I  hadn't  missed  you!  Where 
in  the  world  have  you  been?  " 

"Oh,  now  I'll  not  tell  you  I"  laughed  the 
girl,  while  her  face  flushed  deeply. 

"But  you  were  missed,"  said  Livingston. 
"You've  been  gone  just  ten  minutes." 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled  at  her  own  mis- 
take. It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  been  gone 
an  hour.  He  was  dazzled  by  the  unusual 
brilliancy  of  her  face,  the  strange  light  in  her 
eyes.  The  smile,  he  thought,  was  for  him- 
self. "Did  the  moonlight  transform  you?" 
he  asked.  She  only  laughed  in  reply.  Her 
heart  was  bounding  in  very  joy  of  life  now 

365 


866         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

that  she  saw  her  way  clear  through  the  grave 
difficulty  that  had  confronted  her.  A  great 
tragedy  would  be  averted,  a  lot  of  unscrupu- 
lous men  brought  to  justice,  and  more  than  this 
— the  boy  beside  her  was  safe.  What  mat- 
tered it  to  her  at  this  moment  that  he  pos- 
sessed somewhere  in  the  universe  a  wife,  which 
irrevocably  separated  her  from  him  by  every 
social  law  and  moral  rule?  This  was  nothing 
to  her  now  in  view  of  the  great  sense  of  his 
personal  safety  that  lifted  such  a  weight  of 
fear  from  her  heart.  Nothing  mattered  much 
since  he  was  safe.  How  desperate  the  chance 
had  seemed,  and  now  how  easily  the  danger 
averted ! 

Livingston  knew  little  of  the  thoughts  that 
played  wildly  in  her  brain  while  she,  to  all  in- 
tents, was  listening  with  eager,  brilHant  face 
to  Clarice's  light  chatter.  But  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer  was  tired.  Her  chatter  began  to 
fag.  Outside  the  shadows  settled  down  about 
the  tents,  until  the  moon  rose  above  the  moun- 
tain like  a  great  ball  of  fire,  casting  over 
everything  the  soft  radiance  of  its  white  light. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         367 

The  night  was  aknost  as  bright  as  day.  Liv- 
ingston reluctantly  said  good-night,  and  went 
out  with  Sydney  to  get  his  horse,  which  was 
staked  some  little  distance  away.  When  they 
returned  to  saddle  up  a  movement  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  brush  attracted  Sydney's  atten- 
tion, and  borrowing  the  horse  he  rode  over  to 
investigate.  Livingston,  wondering  vaguely 
what  had  taken  him  away  so  abruptly, 
seated  himself  upon  the  tongue  of  the  camp 
wagon  and  listened  to  the  soft  tones  of 
women's  voices  from  the  white  tent  near  the 
bank.  Quite  without  warning  a  hand  was  laid 
upon  his  shoulder.  "Where  did  Syd  go?" 
asked  Hope. 

"  Over  there,"  replied  Livingston,  rising 
quickly  beside  her,  and  pointing  across  the 
brush.  "  He  took  my  horse  to  drive  out  some 
cattle,  I  think,  and  so  I  am  waiting.  I 
thought  you  had  retired.  Did  you  come  to 
say  good-night  to  me? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl  softly,  "  what  of  it? " 
"Everything!     That  you  should  care  that 
much — that  you " 


868         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"  But  I  wouldn't  need  to  care — so  very  much 
— ^to  come  to  bid  you  good-night — ^would  I  ? " 
she  interrupted. 

"No — perhaps;  but  you  do  care!  I  seem 
to  feel  that  you  care  for  me — Hope ! " 

"No!  I  don't  care  for  you  a  bit!    Not  at 

all — I  mean You  haven't  any  right  to 

talk  to  me  like  that!  Certainly,  I  don't  care 
for  you,  Mr.  Livingston.     Oh,  I  didn't  mean 

to  hurt  you !     I  mean This  is  no  time  for 

such  things ! " 

"Hope!" 

"Wait,  listen!  They  will  hear.  See,  Syd 
is  coming!"  She  stepped  back  from  liim, 
pointing. 

"  What  of  it !  You  shall  tell  me !  Look  at 
me!"  he  commanded.  "Do  you  know  what 
you  are  making  me  believe — ^what  you  are  tell- 
ing me?" 

"Nothing!"  she  insisted.  "I  am  telling 
you  nothing — only — wait!"  She  spoke  hur- 
riedly, catching  her  breath.  "Before  day- 
break I  will  be  on  that  hill  over  there  between 
your   ranch   and  here — there   above   Fritz's 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         369 

grave,  to  watch  the  dawn  of  day — and  the  sun- 
rise and " 

"  And  I  will  be  waiting  for  you  I  God  bless 
you,  dear."  He  kissed  the  brown  hand,  which 
was  snatched  hurriedly  from  his  clasp  just  as 
Sydney  rode  up  beside  them. 

"  You  mustn't  believe  anything  "she  gasped 
under  her  breath. 

''  Everything! "  he  insisted. 

"Your  horse  is  loose,  pard,"  said  Sydney, 
"  I  thought  I  caught  sight  of  it  over  there,  but 
couldn't  see  anything  of  it  when  I  rode  over. 
You're  afoot!  Now  what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?" 

"Walk,"  replied  the  girl,  darting  a  quick 
look  at  Livingston.     "  Half  a  mile  is  nothing" 

"  Half  a  mile,"  laughed  her  cousin.  "  You 
mean  two  miles  and  a  half,  don't  you? " 

"  Oh,  the  horse  isn't  far!  We'U  find  it  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  Good-night,  you 
two!  It's  time  school-teachers  were  in  bed — 
and  everyone  else.  Good-night!"  She  turned 
around  and  waved  her  hand  at  them  just  be- 
fore the  flap  of  the  white  tent  close  upon  her. 


370         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

Clarice  yawned  dismally.  "  Will  you  never 
settle  down,  Hope?  Isn't  this  lovely  and  com- 
fortable? So  cool  after  the  hot,  fatiguing 
day,  I  just  love  it !  Whom  were  you  talking  to 
— Livingston?  What  a  shame  he's  married! 
He's  such  a  dear  boy,  why,   I'd  almost  be 

tempted,  if  he  wasn't  married But  pshaw ! 

Lady  Helene  Livingston  is  one  of  those 
frizzy-haired  blondes  that  suggest  curl  papers 
and  peroxide,  and  she  affects  velvet  dresses, 
black  or  purple — but  always  velvet — and  a 
feather !  I've  seen  her  loads  of  times,  but  she 
doesn't  go  in  our  set,  because  she's  taken  up 
with  those  Grandons.  You  know  Harriet 
married  an  English  peer,  with  a  title,  nobody 
over  there  recognizes.  She  was  such  a  pretty 
girl  that  she  might  have  done  something  for 
her  family,  but  I  don't  think  the  poor  man 
fared  as  well  as  he  expected,  for  it's  well  known 
that  old  Grandon  hasn't  a  half  a  million  in  his 
own  name.  But  Harriet  lives  well,  and  en- 
tertains a  lot  of  English  people  nobody  else 
cares  to  have.  Lady  Helene  Livingston  is 
pretty  enough  in  spite  of  her  velvet  and  f  eath- 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         371 

ers  to  get  on  anywhere,  if  only  she  didn't  fol- 
low in  the  train  of  Harriet's  crowd.  I  won- 
der how  it  happens  that  she  never  comes  out 
here?" 

"  The  curl  papers  and  velvet  may  have  some- 
thing to  do  with  that,"  said  Hope,  settling 
down  beside  Louisa,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  tent,  with  a  motion  as  weary  as  if  the  only 
thought  she  possessed  was  to  secure  a  good 
night's  sleep.  "Velvet  and  feathers,"  she 
yawned.  "  Clarice,  do  you  know  that  it's  nearly 
eleven  o'clock?" 

"Really!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer. 
"  I'd  never  have  thought  it.  See  how  bright 
it  is  in  here — almost  like  day." 

"  Full  moon,"  observed  Hope.  "  It  will  be 
light  like  this  until  almost  morning,  and 
then  darkness  for  a  little  while  before  day- 
light." 

"How  well  you  understand  such  things, 
Hope!  I  should  think  it  would  be  very  dif- 
ficult to  keep  track  of  the  moon." 

"  Yes,"  yawned  the  girl,  "  it  is.  We'd  bet- 
ter go  to  sleep,  Clarice,  because  as  soon  as  the 


372         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

sun  is  up  it  will  be  too  warm  to  stay  in  here,  so 
you  won't  get  your  morning  nap.  That's  the 
worst  of  a  tent." 

"  What  a  shame! "  sighed  Mrs.  Van  Rensse- 
laer. Then  after  ten  minutes  of  silence: 
"  Hope,  I  want  you  to  go  back  to  New  York 
with  me  next  week.  Now,  no  joking,  dear,  I 
mean  it." 

"  No,"  replied  Hope.  "  It's  too  roasting  hot 
there  at  this  season.  I  couldn't  think  of  it, 
Clarice." 

"  But  we're  going  by  way  of  the  Lakes,  and 
take  in  a  lot  of  those  cool  sunmier  resorts. 
Then  I  must  get  to  Newport  for  the  last  of 
the  season,  and  after  that,  you  know,  it  will  be 
decent  weather  in  New  York,  and  we  can  have 
no  end  of  good  times.  Come  now,  Hope,  just 
make  up  your  mind  to  go ! " 

"You  forget,  I  must  teach  my  school  for 
several  weeks  yet,  so  that  settles  it.  Good- 
night, Clarice !     Go  to  sleep  like  a  good  girl." 

"What  does  this  little  school  amount  to,  to 
you?"  insisted  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer.  "Not 
a  thing,  and  you  know  it  I     You  just  don't 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         373 

want  to  go  with  us.  Come  on,  please  do  go, 
that's  a  dear  girHel" 

"Impossible,  Clarice,"  replied  Hope. 
"There  are  many  good  reasons  why  I  really 
couldn't.  This  school  up  here,  and  my  little 
Louisa,  and,  anyway,  I  don't  want  to  go. 
Aren't  you  very  tired  and  sleepy,  Clarice?" 
She  thought  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  bid  fair  to 
remain  awake  all  night,  and  was  devising  vari- 
ous schemes  in  her  mind  for  getting  away 
from  her.  But  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  had  an 
object  in  view,  and  disliked  exceedingly  to 
give  it  up. 

"  I  really  don't  think  you  ought  to  stay  up 
here,  Hope.  To  be  candid,  I  don't  just  like 
your  position.  Of  course,  in  this  country, 
conventionalities  don't  count  for  much,  but 
honestly  I  think  this  Livingston  is  caring  for 
you." 

"What  in  the  world  put  such  an  idea  into 
your  head? "  asked  the  girl,  flushing  beneath  her 
cover  of  blankets. 

"Hope!"  reproved  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer. 
"  You  know  it,  and  I  know  it,  so  what's  tlie 


374         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

use  of  denying  it?  But,  of  course,  if  you 
think  it's  right Really,  I  have  nothing  fur- 
ther to  say  except  that  I  wish  you  would  return 
with  me,  and  bring  your  little  Louisa  along." 

The  girl  was  silent  for  a  moment,  forget- 
ting her  anxiety  to  get  away,  in  thoughts 
Clarice  had  suggested. 

"Has  he  any  family?"  she  suddenly  asked. 
"  I  mean — children,  Clarice." 

"I  don't  think  so.  But  what  difference 
would  that  make? " 

"No  difference  in  reality — ^but  a  heap  of 
difference  in  my  thoughts.  If  he  had  a 
family, — children, — it  would  seem  more  natu- 
ral to  think  of  him  as  being  a  married  man,  a 
family  man.  As  it  is,  I  will  remember  him  as 
a  true-hearted,  free  young  Englishman." 

"I  think,  Hopie,  his  being  married  has 
spoiled  a  very  pretty  romance.  I  wish  it 
might  have  been  different,  dear!" 

"You  are  too  sleepy  to  know  what  you 
think.  Go  to  sleep  and  dream  that  I  shall 
join  you  in  New  York  as  soon  as  the  school 
is  ended." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

IT  seemed  an  interminable  time  to  Hope, 
although  it  was  in  reality  less  than  an 
hour,  before  the  breathing  of  the  two 
sleepers  assured  her  that  she  could  leave  the 
tent  in  safety. 

When  she  stood  outside,  at  the  edge  of  the 
cut-bank,  casting  a  quick  glance  over  the  tents 
behind,  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  moonlight  was 
brighter  than  ever.  It  was  like  a  soft  hazy 
day.  She  made  her  way  toward  a  dark  object 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  brush,  the  same  that 
had  attracted  Sydney  an  hour  before.  This 
time  the  small  object  did  not  conceal  itself, 
but  stood  boldly  forth. 

"I  thought  you  wasn't  never  comin',"  said 
the  boy  softly.  "  It  must  be  'bout  mornin'  by 
now.  Seems  all  night!  We'll  haf  to  ride 
like   blazes   if   we   get   there   now   in   time! 

375 


376         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

They're  over  here,"  he  said,  leading  the  way 
along  a  winding  trail  around  the  side  of  a 
wooded  hill. 

"  You're  a  good  boy,"  said  the  girl. 

"You  bet  I  had  the  awfulest  time  gettin' 
away  with  your  saddle!  Every  time  I'd  get 
up  near  it  that  blame  cook'd  pop  his  head 
out  of  the  tent.  I  like  to  never  got  it  a 
tall!" 

"  But  you  did  get  it,"  said  Hope.  "  I  saw 
that  it  wasn't  there." 

"Yep,  an'  the  blanket  an'  bridle.  I've 
got  'em  all  cached  up  here  in  the  trees — 
horses  an'  everything,  an'  your  horse  is  sad- 
dled. Somebody  rode  up  while  I  was  waitin' 
down  there  on  the  bank  for  you,  an'  I  just  had 
to  lay  low,  I  tell  you! " 

"Come,  hurry!"  whispered  the  girl. 
"We've  got  to  kill  our  horses  to-night! " 

"  Oh,  I've  got  Dave's  pinto,  so  I  don't  care," 
replied  the  child.  Then  after  an  instant's 
pause  in  which  they  reached  their  horses: 
"You  couldn't  kill  this  pinto,  nohow!" 

Perhaps,  thought  Hope,  it  would  not  kill 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         377 

her  horse  either.  She  trusted  not,  for  she 
loved  the  animal  dearly.  But  it  would  be  a 
ride  for  their  very  lives  if  the  soldiers  were  to 
reach  there  in  time  to  avert  the  mischief. 

It  was  a  ride  for  their  lives.  Ten  miles  at 
night  over  a  rough  country,  through  tangled 
underbrush,  and  deep  matted  grass,  across 
stony  creek  bottoms  and  rocky  hills,  ever  on- 
ward toward  Fox  Creek  at  the  speed  of  the 
wind. 

Time  and  again  the  horses  stumbled  to 
their  knees,  but  the  riders  might  have  been  a 
part  of  them,  so  securely  did  they  keep  their 
seats.  The  pinto  began  to  lag,  at  which  the 
girl  stopped  for  an  instant,  rode  behind,  and 
lashed  it  furiously  with  her  strong  quirt. 
Then  for  a  time  it  kept  up  with  the  thor- 
oughbred, but  could  not  long  continue  the 
speed. 

Upon  a  high  knoll  the  girl  reined  up,  horse 
and  rider  waiting,  motionless  as  a  carved 
statue,  for  the  pinto,  whose  easy,  graceful  run- 
ning gait  had  changed  to  short  rabbit-like 
leaps. 


378         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"Wish  I  had  another  string  o'  horses!" 
gasped  the  child,  as  he  at  length  gained  the  top 
of  the  hill.  The  girl  pointed  down  the  dwin- 
dling foot-hills  to  something  small  and  white 
in  the  distance. 

"  See,  there  are  the  tents — a  mile  away.  The 
soldiers — two  troops  of  them — out  on  a  pleas- 
ure trip.  I  will  go  on — you  take  your  time, 
and  go  back  with  the  men." 

"  I  want  to  go  with  youf'  declared  the  boy, 
half  crying. 

"  No,"  said  the  girl  coaxingly.  "  You  must 
be  their  guide,  and  lead  them  to  the  ledge  of 
rocks  by  the  sheep-shed.  Think  how  fine  it  will 
be  to  be  a  real  soldier."  Then  appalled  by  a 
new  thought:  "  Oh,  but  if  you  should  get  tired 
and  couldn't  lead  them  there,  how  would  they 
ever  find  the  place  ?  What  shall  I  do!  I  can't 
wait  for  them — I  must  go  back  ahead.  If 
he  shouldn't  be  there!  If  something  should 
have  warned  or  detained  him!  What  will 
I  dor' 

"  Oh,  shoot  it  all,  I'll  take  'em  there  all 
right! "  exclaimed  the  boy,  in  a  very  big  voice. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         379 

"Don't  you  worry.  I  ain't  a  bit  tired,  an'  I 
ain't  a-goin'  to  be,  neither! " 

Hope  reached  over  and  clasped  the  child  in 
her  arms,  a  sob  coming  with  her  breath. 

"  My  little  man! "  she  said  softly.  Then  in- 
structing him  to  follow  her,  spurred  up  her 
horse  to  a  fresh  attempt,  and  so  mad  was  her 
ride  that  she  scarcely  breathed  until  she 
dropped  to  the  ground  beside  a  sentinel  who 
commanded  her  to  halt. 

How  she  roused  the  camp  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  was  a  story  Larry  O'Hara  often  de- 
lighted to  relate.  It  was  Larry  who  really 
came  to  the  rescue,  who  shouldered  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  action,  and  led  the  troops  when 
finally  equipped  to  the  scene  of  the  disturb- 
ance. 

Ajid  Hope  rode  back  alone — rode  so  rapidly 
that  her  horse  stopped,  exhausted,  at  the  foot 
of  the  big  hill  where  she  had  planned 
the  rendezvous  with  Livingston.  There  she 
left  the  noble  animal  and  climbed  up  toward 
the  summit,  sometimes  on  her  hands  and  knees, 
so  tired  had  she  become.     And  the  moon  still 


380         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

shone  brightly  along  the  horizon  of  the 
heavens.  An  hour  of  brilliancy,  she  thought, 
then  darkness  before  the  dawn.  When  she 
had  dragged  herself  up  the  mountain  side, 
hope  and  fear  alternately  filling  her  heart,  and 
hastening  her  footsteps,  a  sudden  weakness 
came  over  her  as  she  saw  on  the  summit  the 
stalwart  figure  of  Livingston,  Then  it 
seemed  to  her  that  the  night  had  been  a  mere 
dream,  or  at  least  ridiculous.  How  could  such 
a  strong,  brave-looking  man  require  a  girFs 
assistance?  It  was  preposterous !  She  seemed 
to  shrink  into  herself,  in  a  little  cuddled  heap 
among  the  rocks. 

Then  a  clear  whistle  sounded  on  the  still  air. 
She  knew  it  was  for  her.  How  like  a  boy, 
she  thought.  She  tried  to  answer  it,  but  could 
not  make  a  sound. 

Finally  she  rose  from  the  rocks  and  ap- 
proached him — ^not  the  Hope  he  had  expected, 
but  a  frightened,  trembling  girl. 

He  went  to  meet  her,  after  the  manner  of  a 
boy,  and  clasped  the  hands  she  gave  him  in  his 
own,  then  kissed  each  one,  and  gravely  led 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         381 

her  to  the  summit  upon  which  he  had  been 
standing. 

"  This  rock  is  Hke  a  great  throne,"  he  said, 
"where  we  are  going  to  wait  our  crown  of 
happiness  that  is  to  come  with  the  rising  of  the 
sun.  Is  it  not  so?  See,  you  shall  sit  upon 
the  throne  and  I  here  at  your  feet.  How  you 
are  trembling,  dear!  And  those  heavy  guns, 
why  did  you  bring  them? " 

"  To  protect  myself,  perhaps,  from  one  who 
is  inclined  to  be  over-bold,"  she  replied,  with  a 
little  nervous  laugh  as  she  settled  herself  com- 
fortably on  the  throne-like  rock. 

"Hope!"  he  reproved.  A  red  flush  dyed 
the  girl's  face. 

"  And  are  you  not  the  man? "  she  inquired. 

"  Tell  me  then,"  he  said  quietly,  "  who  has  a 
better  right ! " 

She  drew  back  into  the  very  recess  of  the 
throne,  away  from  his  eyes,  so  convincingly 
near  to  hers. 

"  It's  a  long  climb  up  this  steep  mountain^" 
she  remarked  weariedly. 

"And  you  are  tired!    I  can  see  it  now.    But 


882         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

it  was  good  of  vou  to  come  to  meet  me  here  like 

CD  •/ 

this,  Hope — sweetheart! " 

"No,  no!  you  must  not  talk  like  that!" 
cried  the  girl. 

"  You  know  I  cannot  help  it  when  I  am  with 
you.  I  must  tell  you  over  and  over  that  I  love 
you — love  you,  Hope!  Why  not,  when  my 
heart  sings  it  all  the  time?  And  have  you  not 
given  me  the  right,  dear? " 

"Wait!  Not  now,"  she  said  more  softly. 
"Talk  about  something  else — anything/^  she 
gasped. 

"And  must  I  humor  you,  my  queen,"  he 
said.  "Look  down  and  let  me  read  in  your 
eyes  what  I  want  to  find  there — ^then  I  will 
talk  about  anything,  everything,  until  you 
want  to  hear  what  is  in  my  heart ! " 

"Only  daylight  can  reveal  what  is  in  my 
eyes,"  she  replied.  "  The  light  of  the  moon  is 
unreal,  deceiving.  Tell  me  how  long  you  have 
been  here,  and  where  did  you  leave  your 
horse?" 

"  You  are  evading  me  for  some  reason.  If 
I  did  not  believe  it  to  be  impossible,  I  should 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         383 

say  that  I  am  nervous — and  that  you  are 
nervous.  Can  you  not  be  yourself  to  me  now 
— at  this  time?  Why  did  you  want  me  to  meet 
you  here?" 

"You  say  you  love  me.  Then  aren't  you 
content  to  just  sit  here  in  silence  beside  me? " 

"Pardon  me,  dear,  but  my  love  is  almost 
too  great  for  silence.  You  will  admit  that." 
Then  with  a  touch  of  amusement  in  his  voice: 
"  Tell  me,  are  you  angry  with  me  that  I  should 
speak  so  plainly  to  you? " 

"No,  no!  Of  course  not — only  talk  about 
something  else  just  now.  How  long  have  you 
been  here?" 

"An  eternity,"  he  replied.  "Or  perhaps 
longer.  I'm  not  sure.  When  I  left  you  there 
at  the  camp  I  went  directly  back  to  the  ranch. 
The  men  were  all  in  bed.  I  went  in  and  got 
my  rifle  and  started  over  here.  You  see  we  are 
both  armed! "  he  laughed,  taking  a  Winchester 
from  behind  the  throne  of  rocks.  She  took  it 
from  him  and  examined  it  minutely. 

"A  good  gun,"  she  remarked^  handing  it 
back. 


384         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"Then  I  started  over  here,"  he  continued, 
"but  had  a  brief  interruption  on  the  road  in 
the  shape  of  the  old  squaw  that  hves  down  in 
your  community — old  Mother  White  Blanket. 
She  held  me  up  in  the  road — positively  held 
my  horse  so  that  I  couldn't  move  while  she  told 
a  story  that  would  have  brought  tears  to  my 
eyes  if  I  could  have  understood  a  word  she 
said,  and  if  my  mind  hadn't  been  so  full 
of  the  most  gloriously  beautiful  girl  in  the 
world. 

"  Finally  I  had  sense  enough  to  give  her  some 
money,  and  after  repeating  *  yes '  innumerable 
times  to  her  broken  questions  she  finally  gave 
me  permission  to  proceed  on  my  way.  I  left 
my  horse  down  at  the  sheep-shed." 

"Couldn't  you  understand  anything  she 
said  to  you? "  questioned  Hope  eagerly. 

"  Not  much,"  he  admitted,  and  Hope,  with 
a  relieved  little  air,  which  he  noticed,  sank  back 
among  the  rocks  again. 

A  silence  fell  over  them  for  a  time,  then 
Livingston  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  the 
girl  intently. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         385 

"I  think  she  was  trying  to  tell  me  some- 
thing," he  said  slowly.  "  She  said  it  was  a 
warning;  but  I  paid  no  attention  to  her  delir- 
iimi.  I  believe  she  tried  to  impress  upon  me 
that  I  was  in  danger.  But  I  was  insanely 
anxious  to  meet  you.  She  said  something  that 
I  had  heard  before,  that  you  and  the  twins  had 
driven  away  the  men  who  attacked  and  killed 
poor  Fritz  that  night.  And  this  much  more 
I  think  I  understand  now,  that  the  *  old  man,' 
whoever  she  meant,  had  given  her  a  beating, 
that  the  twins  were  shut  up  in  the  stable 
or  somewhere,  and  that  you  were  a  good  girl 
because  you  had  given  her  all  your  school 
money.  That  much  is  clear  to  me  now.  And 
also  that  she  was  very  anxious  that  I  should  get 
out  of  the  country  immediately — which  seems 
to  be  the  sentiment  of  the  majority  of  the 
people  out  here.  The  old  woman  is  no  doubt 
insane." 

"Oh,  yes,"  agreed  the  girl,  "there's  not 
a  doubt  but  that  she's  plumb  locoed!  I'm 
glad  you  didn't  allow  anything  she  said  to 
trouble    your    mind.     She's    a    regular    old 


386         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

beggar.  The  money  was  probably  what  she 
was  after.  You  can't  beUeve  a  word  she 
says!" 

"Yet  she  spoke  convincingly,"  mused  Liv- 
ingston. "  If  I  hadn't  been  so  absorbed  in  the 
meeting  I  would  have  taken  more  heed  of 
what  she  said.  As  it  was,  I  passed  her  off  as  a 
little  out  of  her  mind.  Of  course,  I  knew  you 
had  no  hand  in  that  shooting  at  the  corral,  had 
you,  Hope?"  he  asked  in  a  somewhat  anxious 
voice. 

"A  ridiculous  idea  for  that  old  squaw  to  get 
in  her  head,"  replied  the  girl,  leaning  in  a 
weary  fashion  back  upon  the  rock. 

Whatever  suspicion  Livingston  had  enter- 
tained vanished  for  the  moment. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know  ex- 
actly why,  but  I  am  glad  that  it  isn't  so.  I 
shouldn't  like  to  think  that  you  had  done  such 
a  thing — for  me." 

"  The  moon  takes  a  long  time  to  set,  don't 
you  think?"  she  remarked.  "It  must  be  al- 
most time  for  dayhght." 

"Are  you  anxious?"  he  inquired  pointedly. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         387 

She  sat  erect  in  dignified  silence  and  did  not 
reply. 

"  How  much  longer  must  you  be  humored, 
dear?"  he  asked,  taking  both  of  her  hands 
within  his  own,  and  drawing  her  toward  him. 
"I  do  not  believe  that  the  moonlight  will  tell 
lies.    Look  at  me!'* 

She  leaped  away  from  him  with  all  her 
young  strength,  and  stood  upon  the  throne  of 
rocks,  scornfully  erect. 

"  How  bad  you  are — how  wicked  to  talk  to 
me  so,  to  even  think  that  I  would  care  for  you 
one  minute!  Surely  you  must  realize  that  I 
know  your  past,  Lord  Livingston!  Your 
past! "  she  flashed. 

"  You  know  my  past,  and  yet  you  can  con- 
demn me,"  he  said,  pain  and  wonderment  in  his 
quiet  voice.  "Perhaps  you  are  right.  I 
haven't  always  been  perfect.  But  I  am  not 
bad — Hope!  Not  that!  I  am  a  man — I  try 
to  be,  before  God.  Surely  you  do  not  mean 
what  you  say,  my  girl — Hope! " 

"  You  know  just  what  I  mean,"  said  Hope, 
in  a  voice  strained  and  harsh.    "And  you  know 


388         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

it  would  be  absolutely  impossible  for  me  to  love 

you!" 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,"  re- 
plied Livingston,  turning  away  from  her. 
"We  will  not  wait  for  the  sunrise.  I  will 
go  now."  He  walked  from  her  with  long 
strides. 

"Wait,"  she  cried  in  absolute  terror, 
''Wait!  Oh,  you  wouldn't  be  so  rude  as  to 
leave  me  here — alone!  "  He  stopped  short,  his 
back  still  toward  her.  "Please  come  back!" 
she  begged,  approaching  him,  "  I  should  die  of 
fright!"  Somehow  she  reminded  herself  of 
Clarice.  "  Surely  you  will  walk  back  to  camp 
with  me!" 

"Yes,  certainly,  pardon  me,"  he  replied 
huskily. 

As  they  turned,  a  horse  came  slowly  toward 
them.  Hope  gave  a  little  nervous  exclama- 
tion. 

"Your  horse,"  said  Livingston,  reaching 
for  the  bridle.    "  I  thought  you  walked." 

"No — ^yes,"  replied  the  girl.  "I  walked 
up  the  hill.     The  horse  must  have  followed. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         389 

We  will  walk  down  and  lead  it.  It's  too  steep 
to  ride  down." 

But  Livingston  had  stopped  short  beside 
the  animal,  his  head  bowed,  almost  upon  the 
saddle. 

"Come,  shall  we  go?"  asked  the  girl  ner- 
vously. 

Suddenly  the  man  turned  to  her,  sternness 
expressed  in  every  line  of  his  figure. 

"  Where  have  you  been? "  he  commanded. 

"For  a  ride,"  she  replied,  feeling  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  the  desire  to  scream. 

"  For  a  ride!  Yes,  it  must  have  been  a  ride  I 
Your  horse  is  nearly  dead — listen  to  his  breath- 
ing! Crusted  with  foam  from  head  to  foot 
and  still  dripping.    You  have  been " 

"For  the  soldiers.  To  protect  your  ranch 
from  the  devils  who  would  kill  you  and  get  rid 
of  your  sheep — ^this  very  hour ! " 

"And  you  have  lured  me  here,  away  from 
danger — away  from  the  side  of  my  men,  away 
from  my  duty^  with  all  a  woman's  cowardice! 
But  what  of  them!  You  have  called  me  bad! 
That  may  be,  but  I  am  not  bad  enough  to  be 


390         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

grateful  to  you  for  doing  this,  that  you  may, 
perhaps,  have  intended  for  a  kindness!  Any- 
thing would  have  been  kinder  to  me  than  what 
you  have  done  to-night." 

"  Where  are  you  going? "  she  cried  from  the 
rocks  where  she  had  thrown  herself.  But  he 
was  running,  with  all  his  speed,  down  the 
mountain  side. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THEN  she  knew  that  he  was  going 
straight  into  the  very  jaws  of  death. 
If  it  had  been  a  trap  set  for  him  it 
could  not  have  been  any  surer.  In  a  sheep- 
shed  far  below,  close  to  the  reef  of  rocks  above 
Fritz's  grave,  a  score  of  men  were  waiting, 
and  he  was  rushing  toward  them,  down  the 
mountain  side,  lighted  by  the  white  moon- 
light. And  what  was  she  doing,  groveling 
there  among  the  rocks?  Like  a  flash  she  was 
after  him,  but  at  a  speed  much  less  than  his 
had  been. 

Before  she  was  halfway  down  three  shots 
rang  out.  The  girl  clutched  her  heart  and 
listened,  but  not  a  sound  could  be  heard  save 
the  long  echoes  in  the  valley,  which  sounded 
like  a  dying  breath. 

On  she  sped  from  rock  to  rock,  keeping  ever 
out  of  sight  of  the  shed,  her  senses  keenly  alive 

391 


892         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

to  the  one  object  in  view — a  bit  of  white  far 
below.  It  might  have  been  a  bunch  of  flowers 
along  the  hillside,  but  white  flowers  never  grew 
there — a  heap  of  bones,  then,  she  thought. 
She  made  a  zigzag  line  along  the  jagged  ridge 
of  rocks,  closer  and  closer  to  the  white  object 
below.  She  wondered  if  he  lay  on  his  face  or 
his  back.  How  calm  she  was  in  the  shock  and 
terror  of  her  grief !  The  light  of  the  moon  was 
growing  dim,  she  had  reached  the  very  tip  of 
the  rocks,  the  white  object  was  not  twenty  feet 
away,  but  out  in  the  open  in  perfect  view  of 
the  sheep-shed  and  the  score  of  men  it  hid. 
Another  shot  broke  the  stillness.  The  white 
object  moved,  and  then  a  moan  followed,  sofl| 
low  that  none  but  the  ears  of  the  frenzied  girl 
could  have  heard.  Like  an  enraged  lioness 
she  sprang  out  into  the  open  and  dragged  the 
heavy  body  up  toward  the  shelter  of  rocks. 
Several  bullets  rang  about  her,  but  the  increas- 
ing darkness  made  her  an  uncertain  target.  A 
couple  of  men  ventured  outside  the  sheep-shed, 
encouraged  by  the  stillness.  The  girl  laughed 
savagely,  as  if  in  glee,  and  pulled  the  man's 


"Dragged  the  heavy  body  up  toward  the  shelter  of  rocks. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY  393 

body  close  to  the  side  of  rocks,  covering  it  with 
her  own. 

"Come  on,"  she  cried  to  herself.  "Come 
on,  show  yourselves !  I  shall  have  you  all !  For 
every  pang  you  have  made  him  suffer,  you 
shall  have  twenty,  and  for  his  death  you  shall 
have  a  lingering  one!  Come  on,  come  on!" 
Three  stood  outside.  The  addition  pleased 
her.  She  laughed.  Taking  deliberate  aim  she 
fired  again  and  again.  Three  wounded,  fright- 
ened men  crawled  into  the  shelter  of  the  shed. 
Then  a  score  of  bullets  splashed  against  the 
rocks  about  her.  She  lifted  the  warm  bleeding 
body  closer  under  the  rocks,  drawing  her  own 
over  it  to  protect  it  from  all  harm  and  talking 
frantically  the  while. 

"  The  hounds,  the  hounds !  They  murdered 
you  right  in  my  sight,  dear,  and  I  will  tear  out 
their  hearts  with  my  hands !  See,  they  are  hid- 
ing themselves  again!  I  can  wait,  yes,  I  can 
wait!  My  love,  my  love!  For  everything 
they  have  made  you  suffer!  Oh,  you  can't  be 
dead,  dear!  You  can't  be  dead!  Open  your 
eyes  and  let  me  tell  you  just  once  I  love  you! 


394         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

Only  once,  dear ! "  She  put  her  mouth  close  to 
his  ear.  "  1  love  youj  love  you,  love  you!  Only 
hear  me  once  and  know,  dear!  Know  how  I 
love  you !  Why  didn't  I  tell  you?  I  don't  care 
if  you  are  married  a  thousand  times,  a  million 
times!  I  love  you  with  all  my  life — my  soul! 
See,  he's  trying  to  get  away!  But  he'll  never 
reach  his  horse!  See!  A  hole  right  through 
his  knee!  Death  is  too  good  for  them,  dear. 
My  love,  speak  to  me  just  once — only  know 
that  I  love  you,  that  I  am  mad  with  love  for 
you!  Tell  me  that  you  feel  my  face  against 
yours — and  my  kisses!  See,  they're  crawling 
out  like  flies!  and  making  for  their  horses — 
and  now  they're  crawling  back  again  so  that 
I  cannot  get  them.  Oh,  God,  let  me  get  them 
all!  My  love,  my  love,  how  I  love  you,  and 
never  told  you  so!" 

With  the  first  hint  of  dawn  another  volley 
came  from  the  opposite  side,  and  out  of  the 
gloom  a  rush  of  cavalry  closed  in  about  the 
sheep-shed,  and  ten  men,  most  of  them  suffer- 
ing from  slight  wounds,  were  taken  captive. 
The  man  lying  against  the  reef  of  rocks  par- 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         395 

tially  opened  his  eyes  as  Hope,  with  one  last 
kiss  upon  his  face,  rose  to  meet  a  small  group 
of  riders. 

"  I  say,  Hope,  it's  a  blasted  shame  we  didn't 
get  here  in  time  to  save  him!"  exclaimed 
O'Hara,  with  grief  in  his  voice.  "I'll  just 
send  the  doctor  over  here  at  once." 

While  the  surgeon  bent  over  Livingston 
the  girl  stood  close  by,  against  the  rocks,  quiet 
as  the  stone  itself. 

"A  bad  shoulder  wound,"  he  commented  at 
length.  "  A  little  of  your  flask,  O'Hara,  and 
he'll  be  all  right.  Why,  he's  quite  conscious! 
How  do  you  feel?  You're  all  right,  my  boy! 
A  shattered  shoulder  isn't  going  to  bother  you 
any,  is  it  ?    Not  much ! " 

The  girl  moved  closer. 

" Is  he  alive  and  conscious?  Will  he  live?" 
she  asked. 

"He's  all  right,  madam,"  replied  the  sur- 
geon. As  he  spoke  Livingston  turned  his  face 
toward  her,  his  eyes  alight  with  all  the  love- 
light  of  his  heart — answering  every  prayer  she 
had  breathed  upon  him.    Her  own  answered 


396         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

his.  Then  she  drew  back,  farther  and  farther 
away,  until  she  stood  outside  the  group  of 
riders.  O'Hara  tried  to  detain  her  as  she 
passed  him. 

"  Why,  you're  wounded  yourself,  girl ! "  he 
exclaimed. 

She  looked  at  her  sleeve,  and  the  wet  stream 
of  blood  upon  her  dress,  and  laughed.  It  was 
true,  but  she  had  not  felt  the  wound. 

"Not  at  all,  Larry,"  she  replied.  "The 
blood  came  from  liim,^'  and  she  pointed  back 
to  the  rocks.  She  started  on,  but  turned  back. 
"Tell  me,"  she  said,  "what  became  of  little 
Ned." 

-:  "I  sent  him  home,"  replied  Larry.  "The 
poor  little  chap  was  about  all  in.  We  met  his 
uncle.  Long  Bill,  riding  like  blazes  for  the 
doctor.  It  seems  that  those  young  divils  of 
twins  shot  old  Harris  some  time  during  the 
night,  which  stopped  that  faction  from  join- 
ing these  fellows  here  as  they  had  planned.  A 
pretty  lucky  shot,  I'm  thinking!  They  ought 
to  have  a  gold  medal  for  it,  bless  their  souls, 
but  they'll  both  dangle  from  the  end  of  a  rope 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         397 

before  they're  forty,  the  devils,  or  I'll  miss  my 
guess!" 

Larry  looked  around  to  speak  to  an  officer, 
and  before  he  could  realize  it  Hope  had  dis- 
appeared, climbing  back  toward  the  summit  of 
the  hill  where  she  had  left  her  horse. 

In  the  gulch  on  the  opposite  side  she  fell 
exhausted  into  the  very  arms  of  old  Jim  Mc- 
CuUen,  who  had  returned  in  time  to  hear  the 
shooting,  and  was  hastening  toward  the  scene. 

"  My  poor  little  Hopie ! "  he  cried,  carrying 
her  to  the  stream,  where  the  alarmed  party 
from  the  camp  found  them  a  few  minutes 
later. 

"You  will  drown  her,  Mr.  McCuUen!"  ex- 
claimed Clarice  Van  Rensselaer,  rushing  up 
quite  white  and  breathless.  "  The  poor  dar- 
ling, I  just  knew  she'd  get  into  trouble  with  all 
those  dreadful  Indians!  Someone  give  me 
some  whisky,  quick!  That's  right,  Sydney, 
make  her  swallow  it!  Here,  give  it  to  me! 
There!" 

Louisa,  stricken  with  grief,  pointed  to  the 
damp,  stiffened  sleeve  of  the  girl's  shirt-waist. 


398         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

"See,"  she  sobbed,  "they  have  shot  her,  too, 
like  my  Fritz!" 

Of  them  all,  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  was  the 
most  contained,  and  showed  remarkable  cool- 
ness and  nerve  in  the  way  she  ripped  off  the 
sleeve  and  bathed  the  wound,  which  was  hardly 
more  than  a  deep  scratch,  yet  had  caused  con- 
siderable loss  of  blood. 

"  It's  exhaustion,  pure  and  simple,"  said  Jim 
McCullen.  Then  he  and  Sydney  drew  away  a 
short  distance,  and  examined  the  horse. 

Hope  finally  looked  up  into  the  anxious 
faces  above  her. 

"  I  think,  Clarice,"  she  said,  "  I'll  go  back  to 
New  York  with  you." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

HOPE,  a  vision  in  white,  leaned  back 
resignedly  in  the  soft  embrace  of  the 
carriage  cushions. 

"  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  you  never  visited 
the  Grandons,  Clarice,  particularly  since  Har- 
riet made  her  alliance  with  the  titleless  duke." 
Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  smiled  behind  the  laces 
of  her  muif.  "I  didn't  suppose  you  were 
going  there  this  afternoon,"  continued  the  girl, 
with  a  sweeping  look  along  the  solidly  built 
street.    "  How  does  it  happen? " 

"Well,  you  see,"  replied  Clarice,  ''Larry 
wished  it;  and  you  know  his  wish  is  law  to  me 
— until  we're  married.  That's  only  right  and 
as  it  should  be — the  dear  hoy!'^  Then  impul- 
sively: "I  don't  know  how  I've  ever  lived 
without  him,  Hope!  Positively,  he  is  the 
dearest  thing  that  ever  lived! " 

"And  you'll  both  be  tremendously  happy,  I 


400         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

know.  Both  of  you  young  and  gay,  and  in 
love  with  life  and  its  frivolities — ^both  the  cen- 
ter of  your  set,  and  both  rattle-brained  enough 
to  want  to  keep  that  center  and  throw  away 
your  lives  in  the  whirling,  rapid  stream  of 
society." 

"You  shouldn't  ridicule  this  life,  Hope. 
Don't  you  know  we  are  the  very  pulse  of  the 
world!  I  had  an  idea  you  were  taking  to  it 
pretty  well.  You  are  certainly  making  a  tre- 
mendous hit.  Even  mamma  smiles  upon  you 
in  the  most  affectionate  manner,  and  is  proud 
for  once  of  her  offspring.  You  are  simply 
gorgeous,  Hope — a  perfect  queen! '^ 

The  girl's  eyes  darkened,  her  face  flushed. 
"  A  queen"  she  retorted.  "  A  queen !  Clarice, 
did  you  ever  sit  upon  a  throne  and  feel  the 
world  slipping  out  from  under  you?  A 
woman  is  never  a  queen,  except  to  the  one  man. 
But  you  are  mistaken,  Clarice.  I  simply  can- 
not adapt  myself  to  this  life.  If  it  wasn't  for 
the  continual  monotony  of  it  all — the  never 
changing  display  of  good  points  and  fine 
clothes — where  even  one's  own  prayers  are 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         401 

gilded  and  framed  in  consciousness  and  vanity 
— and  these  streets — the  reflection  of  it  all — 
these  blocks  and  blocks  always  the  same,  like 
the  people  they  cover — presenting  always  the 
same  money-stamped  faces — oh,  it  is  this  same- 
ness that  stifles  me!  It  is  all  grand  and  won- 
derful, but  it  isn't  life"  She  paused,  then 
smiled  at  Clarice's  perplexed  face.  "Leave 
me  at  mamma's  when  you  return,  for  I've  got 
stacks  of  things  to  do,  and  I  want  the  evening 
all  to  myself — Louisa  and  I,  you  know.  And 
we'll  say,  Clarice,  that  I  perfectly  love  dear  old 
New  York." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind,  dear,  not  at  all  I  I  know 
you  are  no  more  fitted  in  your  heart  for  this 
life  than  I  am  for  the  life  out  there  with  those 
dreadful  Indians.  But  you've  certainly  been 
acting  superb  these  last  two  months! " 

"  You  are  such  a  dear,  Clarice,"  said  Hope 
impulsively,  stroking  her  gloved  hand.  "I 
have  you  and  Louisa,  and,  of  course,  I  am  per- 
fectly happy!  I  tell  myself  so  a  thousand 
times  a  day.  My  poor  little  Louisa!  She's 
about  the  happiest  girl  I  ever  saw  in  all  my 


402         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

life,  but  she  doesn't  know  it.  Here  she  is 
worrying  her  head  off  because  Sydney  is  press- 
ing his  suit  too  strongly  and  won't  take  *  no ' 
for  an  answer,  and  she  thinks  she  ought  to  be 
faithful  to  poor  Fritz,  her  cousin,  who  is  really 
only  a  sweet,  sad  memory  to  her  now,  while  all 
the  time  she  is  crazy  in  love  with  Syd.  Isn't  it 
a  fright  ?  But  Sydney  is  way  out  in  Montana, 
and  his  letters  serve  only  as  little  pricks  to  her 
poor  conscience.  Her  replies  are  left  mostly 
to  me,  so  that  is  what  I  must  do  to-night." 

"But  your  mother  entertains  this  evening. 
Had  you  forgotten?"  reminded  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer.  "  So  how  are  you  going  to  get 
away?" 

"I  suppose  I  will  have  to  come  down  for 
awhile,  but  I  simply  will  not  remain  long." 

"Well,  I  will  see  you  then.  Larry  and  I 
are  going  to  drop  in  for  a  little  while  in  the 
early  evening." 

When  they  drove  away  from  the  Grandons' 
a  half  hour  later  Clarice  searched  the  girl's 
quiet  face  for  some  expression,  of  her  thoughts, 
but  found  none. 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         403 

"  So  you  have  seen  the  Lady  Livingston  at 
last,  Hope!    What  do  you  think  of  her?" 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  looked 
into  the  street.  "  Your  description  tallied  very 
well,"  she  replied. 

That  evening  Hope  met  the  blond  Lady 
Helene  at  her  mother's  musieale.  This  time  it 
was  Clarice,  again,  who  brought  the  meeting 
about. 

Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  was  in  her  gayest,  most 
voluble  mood. 

"  I'm  so  anxious  to  have  you  two  get  ac- 
quainted," she  said.  "  Dear  Lady  Helene,  this 
is  Hope — Miss  Hathaway,  and  she  can  tell 
you  everything  you  want  to  know  about  the 
West.  Do,  Hope,  entertain  her  for  a  few 
moments  until  I  find  Larry."  This  the  girl 
did  in  her  gracious  way,  but  adroitly  kept  the 
conversation  away  from  the  West. 

After  a  few  moments  Clarice  returned  with- 
out Larry.  A  shadow  of  disappointment 
crossed  her  face  as  she  joined  the  conversation. 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  talk  about 
the  West,  Hope,"  she  laughed,  "  and  here  you 


404         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

are  talking  New  York — nothing  but  New 
York!" 

"New  York  is  always  an  entertaining 
topic,"  said  Lady  Helene.  "  I  do  not  seem  to 
fancy  the  West  particularly.  You  know  Lord 
Livingston  has  recently  been  hurt  out  there, 
and  so  I  do  not  enjoy  a  very  kindly  feeling 
toward  that  country.  The  poor  boy!  I  have 
been  so  worried  about  him !  Really,  don't  you 
know,  I  haven't  had  a  good  night's  sleep  since 
I  heard  of  his  injury!  Yes,  you  know,  it's  a 
wonder  he  wasn't  scalped!  It's  just  fearful, 
really!  He  is  so  much  to  me,  you  know.  Ever 
since  my  poor  husband  died  and  the  title  and 
estates  fell  to  Edward,  I  have  felt  a  great 
responsibility  for  him.  He  is  so  much  younger 
than  my  husband.  Lord  Henry,  and  so,  well, 
really,  sort  of  wild,  don't  you  know."  Here 
Lady  Helene  smiled  and  wiped  one  eye  with  a 
filmy  bit  of  lace.  Perhaps  she  was  saddened 
by  thoughts  of  the  havoc  she  had  wi'ought  in 
the  life  of  the  late  lord,  and  his  fortunes. 

Hope  sat  motionless,  suddenly  paralyzed. 
*'Do  you  mean,"  she  asked,  in  short  gasps, 


HOPE    HATHAWAY         405 

"that  Edward — Lord  Livingston  is  not 
your  husband?'' 

"Mercy,  no,"  replied  Lady  Helene,  "my 
husband's  brother!  Indeed,  Edward  is  not 
married !  I  doubt  very  much  if  he  ever  will  be. 
I  hope  if  he  does,  that  it  will  be  to  someone  at 
home,  in  his  own  class,  don't  you  know! 
Really,  he  is  a  great  responsibility  to  me,  Mrs. 
Van  Rensselaer!  Why,  where  did  Miss 
Hathaway  go?  She  seems  to  be  such  a  bright, 
dashing  young  woman.  Really,  one  meets  few 
American  girls  so  royally  beautiful!  Yes,  as 
I  was  saying,  Edward  is  a  terrible  responsibil- 
ity to  me.  Even  now  I  am  obhged  to  hurry 
away  because  he  has  just  arrived  here  in  town, 
and  I  must  meet  him  at  his  hotel.  That  is  the 
worst  of  not  having  a  house  of  your  own!  To 
think  of  poor,  dear  Edward  stopping  at  a 
hotel!'' 

"Which  one?"  gasped  Clarice.  Receiving 
the  information,  she  abruptly  excused  her- 
self from  Lady  Helene,  who  immediately  de- 
cided that  some  Americans  had  very  poor 
manners. 


406         HOPE    HATHAWAY 

While  Clarice  drove  rapidly  toward  Liv- 
ingston's hotel,  Hope,  in  eager  haste,  was 
literally  throwing  things  in  a  trunk  that  had 
been  pulled  into  the  center  of  the  room.  liittle 
Louisa,  no  less  excited  and  eager,  assisted. 

"To  think,  my  Louisa,"  laughed  the  girl, 
"  that  we  are  going  back  to  our  West — home — 
again,  away  from  all  this  fuss  and  foolish- 
ness !  Oh,  don't  be  so  particular,  dear.  Throw 
them  in  any  way,  just  so  they  get  in!  Our 
train  leaves  at  twelve,  and  I  have  telephoned 
for  tickets,  state-room  and  everything.  Isn't 
it  grand?  Mamma  will  be  furious!  But  dear 
old  Dad,  won't  he  be  glad!  He's  so  lonesome 
for  me,  Louisa.  He  says  he  can  hardly  exist 
there  without  me!  And  Jim,  and  Sydney, 
and — everyone!  Oh,  I  am  wild  for  my  horses 
and  the  prairie  again!  And  you've  got  to  be 
nice  to  Syd!  Yes,  dear,  it's  your  duty.  Can't 
you  see  it?  If  you  don't,  the  poor  boy  will  go 
to  the  bad  altogether,  and  something  dreadful 
will  happen  to  him!  And  it  will  be  all  your 
fault!"  Which  statement  sent  Louisa  into  a 
paroxysm  of  tears,  not  altogether  sorrowful. 


HOPE     HATHAWAY         407 

"You  will  spoil  dose  beautiful  clothes!" 
she  finally  exclaimed,  looking  in  dismay 
through  her  tears  at  the  reckless  packer. 

"It  makes  no  difference,"  laughed  Hope. 
"  What  are  clothes!  We  will  have  the  rest  sent 
on  after  us.  I  suppose  we've  forgotten  half 
what  we  really  need,  but  that  doesn't  matter, 
either,  does  it,  my  Louisa? " 

Louisa  dried  her  tears  and  assisted  until  the 
trunk  was  packed  and  strapped.  Then  they 
took  hold  of  hands  and  danced  like  children 
around  it.  Suddenly  Hope  stopped,  her  face 
growing  white  and  fearful. 

''  If  he  shouldnH  forgive  me! ''  she  exclaimed 
softly. 

"Ah,  but  he  lofs  you!"  said  Louisa. 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer 
opened  the  door  and  looked  in. 

"My  dear,"   she  began,   then   stopped   in 

amazement.     "  What  in  the  world Why, 

you  are  going  away!" 

"Yes,"  replied  Hope,  putting  her  head 
down  upon  Clarice's  soft  evening  wrap.  "  I 
am  going  back  to " 


408         HOPE     HATHAWAY 

"But  he  has  come  to  you,  dear,  and  he  is 
waiting  right  here  in  the  hall!" 

"  No,  no ! "  breathed  the  girl. 

"But  he  isf'^  exclaimed  Clarice,  gently 
pushing  the  girl,  still  in  all  her  white  evening 
glory  of  gown,  into  the  great  hall.  "And  he 
carries  his  arm  in  a  sling,  so  do  be  careful!" 
she  admonished,  closing  the  door  upon  her. 

From  below  came  the  indistinct  murmur  of 
many  voices.  Under  the  red  glare  of  the  lamp 
at  the  head  of  the  broad  staircase  Livingston 
and  Hope  met  in  a  happiness  too  great  for 
words. 

"Louisa,''  said  Clarice  Van  Rensselaer, 
from  her  seat  upon  the  trunk,  "  I  hope  you  see 
it  your  duty  to  make  a  man  of  Sydney." 

"^A  man"  replied  Louisa  indignantly,  "he 
is  already  de  greatest  man  in  all  de  whole 
world,  and  /  lof  Mm!" 


Finis. 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


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M'<237S59 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


